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A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIKF. 


Frontispiece. 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


BY 



EMMA MARSHALL 

% » 

Author of “Master Martin,” “ A Roman Maiden,” Etc. 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 

1 03- 1 05 SOUTH FIFTEENTH STREET 

1 


78120 


Library of Conqresa 

Two Copies Received 

NOV 22 1900 

Copyn^ entry 

SECOND COPY 

Oelivoied to 

OROEK DIVISION 

NOV 24 lavu 



Copyright, 190c, by 
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAOK 


I. A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIEF 


9 

• 

9 

• 

I 

II. ANXIOUS HOURS * 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

II 

III. CONSULTATIONS 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

23 

IV. DEPARTURE . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

33 

V. HOME-COMING . 

• 

• 

m 

• 

• 

• 

44 

VI. BOXING-DAY . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

55 

VII. A LONG WALK 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

66 

VIII. 'A STRANGE MEETING 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

77 

IX. THE DOOR IS SHUT 

• 

• 


• 

• 

• 

87 

X. THE RESULT OP A CHILL 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

98 

XI. FANNY WRIGHT 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

no 

XII. “found wanting” 

• 

• 

• 


• 

0 

121 



TIME TEIES 


CHAPTER I 

A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIEF 

“You have stood staring out of the window for 
half-an-hour, Frances ; I’m ashamed of you, idling 
your time like that.” 

Miss Brocklehurst always called her niece 
Frances when she was remonstrating with her 
for “ idling.” 

Poor Frances, or Fan Wheeler, was, it must be 
confessed, a very dreamy child. Her large fawn- 
like eyes were always looking out into vacancy, 
and she had a slow, languid way of moving, which 
was intensely distasteful to her brisk, energetic 
aunt. 

“ Come at once and take up your needlework. 
I am not going to support you when you don’t 
stir a finger to help yourself. You are the image 
of your poor mother, who was the wife of a 
working-man, who wanted a helper and not a 
hinderer, like your mother was.” 

A 


2 


FANKY AKD HEK FRIENDS 


Fan uncurled herself from her favourite seat in 
the httle bow-window of her aunt’s parlour, and 
with a long, lingering look at the market-place, 
was doing as she was told, when suddenly she 
exclaimed — 

“ Little Miss Maxwell’s pony is running away ! 
Oh, she is thrown ! It is dragging her ! She 
will be killed ! she will be killed ! She is right 
under the window ! ” 

Miss Brocklehurst was off like an arrow from 
a bow to the front door of her house, Frances 
following her. 

There, just by the steps leading up to the door, 
lay a girl about Fan’s age, with the blood oozing 
out from a cut in her forehead, and apparently 
lifeless. Her habit, which had caught in the 
pommel of the saddle, had fortunately given way, 
and thus she had been saved from what would 
have been death if she had been dragged across 
the stones of Fountain market-place. 

The pony had galloped off, the groom after 
it, and little Miss Maxwell was taken up by Miss 
Brocklehurst and carried into her parlour. 

“ Run for a doctor. Fan ! Quick 1 make haste 
for once 1 ” 

Fan needed no second bidding this time; she 
rushed out with her hair flying hke a pennon 
behind her; the bystanders questioning her in 


A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIEF 


3 


vain as to what had happened, till she got to 
Temple Street, where Dr. Nicholson lived. 

He was just going into his house when Fan 
seized him by the coat-tail and gasped out — 

“ Come — come at once ! You must — you 
must come, sir ! ” 

“ Where am I to come ? Who is ill ? Why, 
it’s Miss Brocklehurst’s niece. Has she had a 
fit?” 

" No, no, it’s not aunt ; it’s little Miss Maxwell 
from Crawley Court — she has been thrown from 
her pony.” 

“ An accident, eh ? I’ll come at once. Where 
is she ? ” 

“ At aunt’s house,” Fan said. 

To be summoned to attend little Miss Maxwell 
was rather different from going to Miss Brockle- 
hurst in a fit. For ever since Mr. Maxwell had 
bought Crawley Court there had been a great 
desire amongst the Fountain doctors to secure 
the household for patients. Now here was a 
chance for Dr. Nicholson, and he strode up to 
Miss Brocklehurst’s house, leaving Fan to follow, 
still breathless and gasping, to the market-place. 

The groom, who had captured the pony, was at 
the door, where a knot of people had collected 
when the doctor arrived. He pushed them 
aside, and made no answer to the groom’s — 


4 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


“ It was no fault of mine, sir. It was a young 
scoundrel letting off a squib that sent Jess 
off — it was no fault of mine. I hope that 
will be made clear. No pony in the world will 
stand a squib let off imder his nose — would he, 
Jess?” 

Jess stood like a culprit, her glossy coat flecked 
with foam, and her eyes still with a startled 
expression, looking round as if to assure herself 
there were no more squibs in the air. 

The doctor had only waited to hear the groom’s 
first words, and had said nothing in reply. Pre- 
sently a boy pushed his way up to the door 
just as poor breathless Fan had reached it. The 
groom, when he saw him, said — 

“ You good-for-nothing young scoundrel ! let- 
ting off squibs in daylight ; you’ll have cost me 
my place. How could I tell when I left Jess to 
go with an order to the fishmonger’s that a rascal 
would let off fireworks in daylight ? I’d like to 
thrash you till you can’t stand.” 

“ You’d better try,” was the cool rejoinder, as 
the boy turned to Fan and asked — 

“ Is she hurt ? Is the young lady hurt ? ” 

“ Yes ! 0 Teddy ! how could you ? How could 
you?” 

Then Fan disappeared in the little dark lobby 
of her aunt’s house, and, clasping her hands with 


A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIEF 


5 


the dread she felt, as to what she should see in the 
parlour, peeped in at the door. Little Miss Maxwell 
lay on the horsehair sofa, and Miss Brockle- 
hurst was holding a basin and a sponge, while 
Dr. Nicholson had his hand on the little slender 
wrist which lay upon the torn riding-habit. 

“ Severe concussion of the brain,” Dr. Nicholson 
said at last, breaking the silence of suspense with 
these words. 

“ What shall we do ? What shall we do ? ” 

“ Get a mattress and make a bed up here ; she 
must not be removed — it is as much as her life 
is worth. Here, child,” the doctor said to Fan, 
^‘tell them to stop that talking outside; and bid 
the groom ride off to the Court and say Miss 
Flora has been thrown from her pony and Mr. 
Maxwell must come at once.” Then to Miss 
Brocklehurst, “ It will be a long case, even if she 
recovers. You must have assistance.” 

‘‘ I am used to nursing, sir,” Miss Brocklehurst 
said. “ I had that poor child’s mother lying in 
the house months before she died.” 

“Yes, yes; but it will not be fair to leave you 
all the burden ; but for the present what we have 
to think of, is to get the poor child undressed and 
to bed.” 

“Upstairs would be more comfortable,” Miss 
Brocklehust ventured to say. 


6 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


‘ That may be true. I shall not take the 
responsibility of moving the young lady till I am 
more assured as to her condition.” 

“ Is she alive, sir ? ” Fan asked with trembling 
lips. 

Alive ? Yes ! Now you must make yourself 
useful, and do all you can to help your aunt.” 

Even in this supreme moment of anxiety Miss 
Brocklehurst could not resist saying — 

If she is of use, it will be the first time in her 
life, doctor.” 

“ Come, come ! She ran to fetch me fast 
enough — that was being of use surely. Throw a 
cloth over the canary’s cage, will you, and stop 
his noise. Have they sent the servant to the 
Hall? Go and see, child, and run with this 
note to my house,” he added, taking a leaf 
out of his pocket-book and writing some direc- 
tions on it. “ Give it to my assistant, and make 
haste.” 

Poor Fan was only too glad to be of use, and 
set off once more on her errand, this time taking 
her hat from a peg in the narrow passage, where 
it hung with Miss Brocklehurst’s waterproof and a 
linen bonnet she wore, when working in the little 
square garden behind her house. 

Fan was running across the market-place to 
the corner of Temple Street, where Dr. Nicholson 


A SQUIB WORKS MISCHIEF J 

lived, when heavy footsteps clattering behind her 
made her turn her head. 

“ I say, Fan ! stop, can’t you ? I want to speak 
to you.” 

“ I can’t stop, Teddy. Don’t I ” as Teddy Oliver 
took hold of her frock. “ Don’t 1 I am going to 
the doctor’s.” 

She pressed bravely on, and again in breathless 
haste arrived at Dr. Nicholson’s door. She rang 
a loud peal at the bell, and the maid opened the 
door, saying — 

“You needn’t ring the house down, child. 
What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Give — give this note to the man who helps 
Dr. Nicholson.” 

Assistant, I suppose you mean — well, he is 
out.” 

“ This note is from the doctor — pray, let him 
have it.” 

“ The doctor ! what’s up, then ? ” 

‘‘ Miss Maxwell has been thrown from her 
pony, and she is lying in aunt’s house. The 
doctor is there, and told me to make haste and 
get the Assistance.” 

“Assistant, I suppose you mean. Well, this 
will put the doctor out. He is idling somewhere. 
I’ll warrant ; he ain’t much help to any one.” 

At this moment a young man came down the 


8 


fa>:ny and her friends 


street, and Dr. Nicholson’s old servant called to 
him in a shrill voice — “ Here ! Mr. Blackley, you 
are wanted. Can’t you hurry yourself for once ? ” 

“ All right, Mrs. Smith ; don’t be in such a 
fluster.” Then he took the note from her hand, 
and, giving a low whistle, turned off to the sur- 
gery, and said as he did so, “ I’ll be in the market- 
place before you are.” 

Teddy Oliver had waited patiently, and now 
said — 

“ I want to speak to you. Fan ; listen, will 
you ? If I had thrown the squib at the pony 
I should own up, but I didn’t; he that did it 
sneaked off, and when the groom came out of the 
fishmonger’s the people standing by said, ‘He’s 
the boy who let off the squib ; there was two of 
’em, but he is the one.’ I wasn’t the one, and I 
want you to believe me.” 

“ Who did set it off, then ? ” 

“ I shan’t tell you. I’ll leave it to him to own 
up, and all I shall say is I didn’t let off the squib 
at the pony ; but it was a shameful thing to do. 
You see, I had bought some squibs and crackers 
to let off to-night as it’s Guy Fawkes’ Day ; but 
here they are, if you wish to see them.” 

And indeed Teddy’s pockets were full of the 
mysterious sticks and circle-wheels, aU too dear to 
the hearts of boys. 


A SQUIB WOEKS MISCHIEF 


9 


He had saved his pence for some time that he 
might indulge in this very questionable amuse- 
ment, and there is no doubt the money might 
have been spent to better purpose. 

“ I just want you to believe me when I say I 
didn’t let off the cracker.” 

“ Of course I believe you, Teddy. It will be a 
dreadful, dreadful, thing if little Miss Maxwell 
should die. Good-bye ! ” 

Miss Brocklehurst was known in Fountains as 
a person of means, that is to say, she had no need 
to work for her living. 

Fanny Wheeler was the child of a sister who 
had married a sea-captain, of whom nothing 
had been heard for years. Miss Brocklehurst 
thought that the reason of his silence was because 
he did not want to be called upon to support his 
little girl. “ Captain Wheeler,” she used to say, 
“ was always sure to shift his burdens on other 
folk’s shoulders, and her poor sister was a dreamy, 
helpless creature, who wrote lines and called them 
poetry. Poor thing! Fan has got the faults of 
both parents in her, worse luck 1 ” was always the 
conclusion of the whole matter. 

Miss Brocklehurst’s house stood at the corner 
of the market-place. It had originally been part 
of a glass and china shop, which supplied such 
crockery and earthenware as Fountains needed. 


10 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


But the owner of the shop falling on evil times 
some years before, was very glad to let Miss 
Brocklehurst have the wing which abutted on 
the market-place, while the shop turned its face 
with all its ware to Corn Street, where trade was 
brisker than in the Market Square. 

The little bow- window of Miss Brocklehurst’s 
parlour had once been filled with the ornamental 
glass and gaily paiuted china vases, which had not 
commanded as good a sale as the common vases. 
Since the railway had been opened within two 
miles of the town, the gentry of the neighbour- 
hood had gone to do their shopping at the larger 
and more important town of Waterborough, and 
the trade of Fountains, which had never been 
much to boast of, declined. 

People who drove into Fountains from the 
neighbourhood called it a dead-alive place, where 
the grass grew undisturbed in the streets, and 
where the stillness at high noon-day was broken 
only by the cawing of rooks in the tall elm-trees 
at the back of the Market Square, or the clatter 
of boys’ feet as they came running across it to 
the Grammar School in Temple Street, and by the 
occasional roll of a carriage. 


CHAPTER II 


ANXIOUS HOURS 

The sound of horses’ hoofs galloping up the 
avenue at Crawley Court made Mr. Maxwell 
throw down his newspaper and go to the large 
bay window of his study, which commanded a 
view of the drive to the house. When he saw 
the groom leading the pony without a rider, he 
knew at once that an accident had happened. 

Mr. Maxwell went hastily to the hall-door and 
met the groom, who had dismounted from his 
horse and stood with a terror-struck face, hardly 
able to utter a word. 

“What has happened?” Mr. Maxwell asked; 
“ can’t you speak ? ” 

“ Miss Florence, sir — Miss Florence was thrown 
in the market-place. A boy let off a cracker 
right close to Jess, and she started off like a mad 
thing. I was in the fishmonger’s shop; it’s no 
fault of mine, sir.” 

“ Is Miss Florence much hurt ? is she ” 

Mr. Maxwell could not let the word “ killed ” 
pass his lips. 

zz 


12 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


“ Miss Florence is lying at Miss Brocklehurst’s, 
corner of the market-place; they have got the 
doctor ” 

“ Put the horses into the brougham,” Mr. Max- 
well said, “ and make haste about it.” He was 
not a man of many words, but his grave face told 
that something terrible had happened, as his 
eldest daughter. Miss Maxwell, met him on the 
stairs. 

“ Father ! father ! what is the matter ? ” 

“ Florence has had an accident. She has been 
thrown from Jess. Come with me to see what is 
to be done. The carriage will be round directly.” 

“ Thrown from Jess ! thrown from Jess ! How 
did it happen ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Sam has some story about a 
cracker let off by some young rascal which fright- 
ened the pony, but I really know no particulars.” 

“It is the fifth of November,” Miss Maxwell 
said. “ When will these stupid customs be given 
up ? Last year a boy was terribly burnt.” 

In another five minutes Miss Maxwell and her 
father were on the road to Fountains, and the 
carriage was soon rattling over the stones of 
Fountains market-place. 

There were still a few people standing about, 
moved by curiosity and that eager desire to learn 
particulars of the accident which is so common. 


ANXIOUS HOURS 


13 


Florence Maxwell on her pony, with her bright 
hair flowing in the wind behind her as she rode 
into the little town with the groom, was a familiar 
sight. 

Many a time had Fan watched for her, and that 
very afternoon, when her aunt had reproached 
her for standing to stare out of the window, it 
had been with the hope of seeing little Miss 
Maxwell ride past. 

The short November day was closing in, and 
from afar came the sound of crackers and squibs, 
while a procession of men and boys would, as soon 
as it was dark, parade the town with fifes and a 
drum, with the figure of Guy Fawkes carried in 
a chair with poles, on the shoulders of the ring- 
leaders of this senseless celebration of an event 
of bygone times. 

Miss Brocklehurst’s little parlour was but dimly 
lighted by two candles, for Miss Brocklehurst had 
a tel-ror of lamps as dangerous, and had never 
suffered gas in her sitting-room because it had a 
bad effect on the bright brass fender and fire-irons 
in which she delighted, and gave a yellowish tinge 
to her new spotless curtains and chintz covers. 

Dr. Nicholson and his assistant had put a 
mattress on the horse-hair sofa, and Florence had 
been laid there with pillows, over which her hair 
lay like a veil. 


14 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Mr. Maxwell had a somewhat cold and abrupt 
manner, and he asked almost imperiously — 

“ Dr. Nicholson, is my daughter in danger ? ” 

‘‘It is a very serious concussion of the brain, 
sir,” Dr. Nicholson said. “ We cannot yet tell 
how it will be with the patient. She has not, as 
you see, recovered consciousness.” 

“ I shall have her removed to Crawley at once.” 

“ Pardon me, sir ; you will run the greatest risk 
if you think of such a thing.” 

“ She can t stay in this little stuffy room ; it’s 
impossible. I shall telegraph for a London sur- 
geon and take his opinion.” 

Miss Maxwell, who had knelt down by her 
little sister’s side, now said — 

“ 0 father ! Dr. Nicholson must know what is 
best,” and, turning to Miss Brocklehurst, she said, 
“We are putting you to great inconvenience; I 
am so sorry.” 

Miss Brocklehurst, who had stood a little apart, 
with her arms folded, in a somewhat offended atti- 
tude, said — 

“ I am glad to be of service. Miss Maxwell. 
I can’t stretch the walls of my room ; they ain’t 
made of india-rubber.” A sniff accompanied these 
words. “ The poor child was thrown at my door- 
step, and I brought her in and sent Fan for the 
doctor.” 


ANXIOUS HOURS 


15 


“ It was very kind of you to do so, and we are 
very grateful to you. Where are you going, 
father ? Don’t leave me. I am so unhappy about 
Florence. Oh ! I do not think she will ever get 
better.” 

“ You must not say that, Miss Maxwell,” Dr. 
Nicholson said. “ I have known this unconscious- 
ness continue for hours. There is nothing to be 
done but to keep the patient perfectly still, with 
hot appliances to the extremities.” 

“ Where am I going ? ” Mr. Maxwell said 
sharply. “To telegraph for Sir Godfrey Ball, 
of course.” 

Then, without a word of thanks to Dr. Nichol- 
son, Mr. Maxwell went hastily out of the house, 
got into his carriage, and drove to the post- 
office. 

Miss Maxwell knew it was useless to attempt 
to persuade her father to alter his determination, 
and the only thing was to watch and wait in the 
little dim parlour, and to do her best by her sweet 
manner to atone for her father’s brusque dis- 
courtesy. 

After an hour passed in silence Dr. Nicholson 
said, “ The great man cannot be here till mid- 
night, even if he starts at once on receiving the 
telegram. Meantime, my dear young lady, let 
me advise you to go to Miss Brocklehurst’s back- 


1 6 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

parlour and rest. Show Miss Maxwell the way, 
Fanny.” 

But Miss Maxwell still lingered. 

“ I do not like to leave her. If she opens her 
eyes and finds only strangers about her it will 
frighten her. 0 Dr. Nicholson ! will she ever 
recover consciousness ? ” 

“We must hope for the best. I will keep 
watch over the poor child, and let you know if 
there is any change. Show Miss Maxwell to the 
back-parlour, Fan,” the doctor repeated. 

“ Please, Miss, do come,” Fan said. 

“ Where can my father be ? ” Miss Maxwell 
exclaimed. 

Miss Brocklehurst answered the question. 

“ The gentleman is gone to the White Hart to 
wait for the great doctor. My house is not grand 
enough for him, I suppose ! ” 

“ Oh, do not say so ! do not say so ! ” Miss 
Maxwell cried. “We are very grateful to you 
for your kindness — we are, indeed.” And poor 
Miss Maxwell, quite broke down, and taking little 
Fan’s hand, said, “ I will come with you, for I am 
very tired.” 

Fan was only too pleased to have Miss Maxwell 
to herself. She drew an old arm-chair to the fire 
in the back-parlour, and Miss Maxwell sank down 
in it. Fan stirred the smouldering coals into a 


ANXIOUS HOUKS 


17 


blaze, and put on a log of wood which lay across 
the coal-box. Then she took a footstool, and 
sitting down at Miss Maxwell’s feet, looked up 
from time to time into the sweet face which 
rested against the worn leather cover of the 
chair. 

“ Did you see it happen, this dreadful accident?” 
Miss Maxwell asked. 

“ I saw the pony gallop across the market- 
place, and that Miss Florence’s habit had caught, 
and she was dragged along.” 

“ It was a boy sending off a cracker that made 
Jess start. Do you know the boy ? ” 

Fan was silent. 

“ There were two or three boys standing by 
when the pony started.” 

“ Yes ; but one must have set off the squib. 
Oh, dear ! what a noise they make now ! ” she 
exclaimed, as the sound of crackers and squibs 
came from the lane which ran at the back of the 
market-place, and into which the gates of the 
little squares of garden opened. 

“ The boy who let off the squib ought to be pun- 
ished,” Miss Maxwell said. “ If my little sister 
dies he will have caused her death. Florence 
rides so well and has such a firm seat, and 
Jess is the best pony in the world. Hark! 
What is that ? ” 

B 


1 8 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

“ It was a knock at the front door,” Fan said. 
“ I must go and open it.” 

But Miss Brocklehurst had been before her, 
and Mr. Maxwell came in, a servant following 
with a tray, which he set down on the table. 

“ I have brought you some dinner from the 
inn, Winifred,” Mr. Maxwell said, addressing his 
daughter. “ You must be half famished. I beg 
you to eat the wing of the pheasant and drink 
some wine.” 

“ I cannot, father — I cannot.” 

“ You must try. It is bad enough to have my 
poor child lying in this condition — do not add to 
my anxieties. You know how easily you are 
knocked up.” 

This was indeed true. Miss Maxwell had 
been more or less an invalid all her life, while her 
little sister had been robust and strong, and had 
never had a day’s illness. 

Mr. Maxwell went to the parlour to look at his 
little girl. 

“ Still no change ! ” he exclaimed. “ Still no 
change ! Are you doing nothing for her ? ” 

“ There is nothing to be done, sir, but to watch 
for any fresh symptom. Perfect quiet is necessary, 
and I try to ensure this.” 

“And with all these fireworks letting off, how 
is that to be secured ? ” 


ANXIOUS HOURS 


19 


“ The room must be kept quiet,” Dr. Nicholson 
said significantly, for Mr. Maxwell was taking 
strides up and down in his anxiety, and upset 
a little table of Miss Brocklehurst’s with a 
crash. 

Miss Brocklehurst, who was sitting bolt upright 
and as motionless as if she were a statue, rose to 
pick up the little knick-knacks which had been 
on the table, saying — 

“You’ll excuse me for saying, sir, I think you 
had better leave the room.” 

With some muttered words and a deep sigh 
Mr. Maxwell did as he was told. Miss Brockle- 
hurst resumed her seat, saying — 

“ Dear, dear ! what a pity it is when folk take 
trouble like this. It is tempting Providence to 
let something worse happen.” 

Dr. Nicholson nodded; he did not want to 
encourage any conversation; and so in silence 
and stillness the hours dragged on, and the child 
lay without any sign of returning life. 

In a pretty cottage just on the outskirts of the 
town a girl of twelve or fourteen was also keeping 
watch that evening. 

“ I wish Teddy would come home,” Mrs. Oliver 
said. “ He will be getting into mischief with 
those fireworks. Has he bought any, Hattie ? ” 

“ I am not sure, mother ; but I expect he has. 


20 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Every boy in the town saves up his money for 
the fifth of November.” 

“ And what a pack of nonsense it is ! ” Mrs. 
Oliver said ; ‘‘ and such a waste of money ! ” 

“ They are making a bonfire on Crag-Point, 
and they are going to carry Guy Fawkes up there 
and burn him.” 

“ And I suppose you would like to go and see 
it done, Hattie.” 

No, mother ; I am sure I don*t want to go out 
with all these crackers and squibs flying about. 
You needn’t be afraid.” 

“ I am not afraid ; for I would lock you up 
in your room upstairs if you dared to try to go 
out.” 

“ Have I not said I don’t want to go out ? You 
needn’t talk of locking me up, mother. The 
procession will pass by on its way to Crag-Point, 
and I shall see as much of the bonfire as I want 
from the windows.” 

Hattie had started up from her chair at the 
table, where she was supposed to be preparing her 
lessons for the next day. But her thoughts were 
not in her work. She was wondering why Teddy 
did not come home. 

‘‘ It is so tiresome of him, when he knows how 
mother worries and fidgets. It is too bad of 
him.” 


ANXIOUS HOURS 


21 


“I wish you would keep quiet, Hattie,” her 
mother said, when for the fourth time she had 
rushed to the window and peered through the 
blind to listen if the step coming along the lane 
was Teddy’s. 

“ There’s some one at the gate now ! ” she 
exclaimed, and she darted out into the passage 
and opened the door. 

“ Oh, Hattie ! I came to ask you to come with 
me and Georgie to Crag-Point. They say there 
never was such a bonfire as they are going to 
light up. Do come ! ” 

“ Ho, thank you ; I shall see as much as I 
want from the window. Have you met Teddy ? ” 

“ No ; but he is sure to come along to see the 
bonfire. Now do come with him; don’t be 
stupid.” 

But Hattie was firm. She did not like crowds, 
and being of a somewhat nervous temperament, 
she disliked the shock which the letting off of 
rockets and crackers always gave her. 

At this moment a rocket shot up into the dark 
sky, and a shower of coloured lights fell with 
dazzling brilliancy for a few moments and then 
disappeared. 

“That was let off from Crag-Point. They’ll 
be lighting up soon, and we must be off. Come 
on, Georgie ! ” 


22 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


And now a voice was heard out of the dark- 
ness — 

“ There’s been an accident to little Miss Max- 
well. She was thrown from her pony, and they 
say she is killed. A cracker was let off under 
the pony’s nose out of fun.” 

“ Who did it ? How dreadful ! Who did it ? ” 

“I don’t know,” Georgie Bradley said; “ask 
Teddy.” 


CHAPTER III 


CONSULTATIONS 

The two girls, Fan Wheeler and Hattie Oliver,, 
met the next morning. 

Are you not coming to school ? ” Hattie asked.. 

“ No ; I am wanted at home. Aunt has written 
this note, if you will take it to Miss Hunt.” 

“ How is Miss Maxwell ? ” 

“ She opened her eyes, and seemed to know 
her sister ; but oh ! she looks so queer, with dark 
lines round her eyes, and her lips are so blue.” 

“ I say, Fan, you don’t think Teddy let off that 
cracker ? ” 

A very decided “ No ” came from Fan. “ I am 
sure he has told the truth,” she said. 

“ It was George Bradley, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; and that it was not Teddy is 
enough for me.” 

Then Fan disappeared into the house, which was, 
as Miss Brocklehurst said, turned upside down. 

Miss Maxwell was a little comforted by her 
sister opening her eyes, and by the doctor’s report 
that her pulse was stronger and her temperature 


24 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

lower, and slie was persuaded to go and lie down 
on Miss Brocklehurst’s bed. 

About ten o’clock the great London surgeon 
arrived. Mr. Maxwell brought him from the 
station in his carriage. He had telegraphed that 
he would arrive by that train, and Mr. Maxwell 
was at the station long before the time appointed. 

Sir Godfrey Ball listened politely to Mr. Max- 
well’s account of his daughter’s condition as they 
drove along, but he only said an occasional — 

“ Indeed ! very serious. An anxious case, I do 
not doubt.” 

Sir Godfrey Ball was not inclined to discuss 
the condition of the patient with an outsider. He 
would reserve any opinion till he had seen and 
consulted with Dr. Nicholson. 

“We have only an ordinary general practitioner 
at Fountains,” Mr. Maxwell said. “A worthy 
man, but of course ignorant. It is an immense 
relief. Sir Godfrey, that you are here.” 

Sir Godfrey bowed. 

“ My dear child is in a poor house, where she 
was carried when she was thrown, or rather 
dragged, across the market-place. I want you 
to advise her removal to Crawley Court.” 

“ I shall be glad to do so if it is prudent,” was 
the reply; and then Sir Godfrey took out his 
watch. “ I have a consultation this ever.ing some 


CONSULTATIONS 25 

miles to the south of London. I shall have to 
start by the two o’clock express.” 

“ So soon ! hut you will return if necessary ? ” 

Sir Godfrey said, “ If necessary ” ; but he 
added mentally, “and if you are inclined to pay 
me another hundred guinea fee.” 

Dr. Nicholson was not at all pleased by the 
great man’s presence. He gave a short and clear 
account of the accident, and a diagnosis, as it is 
called, of the case and the patient’s condition. 
Then he left Sir Godfrey to make his own ob- 
servations, and after examination to prescribe the 
proper treatment. 

One thing was quite clear. The patient must 
not be moved at present. The room must be 
kept perfectly quiet and shaded from the light. 
All this and a great deal more Sir Godfrey said, 
and also advised a trained nurse should be in 
attendance. He would send one direct from 
London if there were none in Fountains. 

“We had better have a London nurse,” Mr. 
Maxwell said. “How long do you think the 
child will have to lie in this place ? ” 

“ I think, my friend,” Sir Godfrey said, with a 
bow to Dr. Nicholson, “ will be able to decide that 
matter, and I am sure you may safely rely on his 
judgment.” 

This consultation had taken place in the little 


26 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


back-parlour, and Miss Maxwell came in to hear 
the result. 

“ I think,*’ she said, “ father, we ought to con- 
sider what an inconvenience it must be to Miss 
Brocklehurst to have her house occupied by us.” 

“We really can’t think of that now, Winifred. 
I will see this good woman is remunerated. It 
may be to her advantage. It is hard enough for 
us to have the child laid up in such poor quarters.” 

“ 0 father ! ” Miss Maxwell said, “ do take care 1” 
for Miss Brocklehurst now opened the door and 
said — 

“ I have heard your remarks, sir, and if it were 
not for the poor child’s danger, I would ask you 
to leave these poor quarters at once; and I 
should be obliged to you and Miss Maxwell to 
leave as soon as may be. There isn’t too much 
room as it is, and the doctors say quiet is the 
best chance for the poor little lady. I have left 
Fan with her now. She is as quiet as a mouse, 
and will call me if I am wanted. I must look 
after my house, poor and small as it is.” 

Mr. Maxwell paid little heed to Miss Brockle- 
hurst, as he was too much taken up with Sir 
Godfrey Ball, and very soon drove off with him 
to the hotel, where he had orderd luncheon before 
starting him off to London again by the two- 
o’clock train. 


CONSULTATIONS 


27 


Winifred Maxwell was distressed at her father’s 
want of consideration, and did her best to soothe 
Miss Brocklehurst’s wounded feelings. 

Dr. Nicholson had left the house with Sir 
Oodfrey, saying to himself, “ It would have been 
civil to ask me to luncheon ; but provincial 
doctors are nowhere with these great men, who, 
after all, just say what has been said before, 
and in this case there was really nothing else to 
say.” 

Meanwhile Fan had been proud to be left alone 
with the little invalid. She sat quietly by, and 
watched the slow breathing and the occasional 
quiver of the white lids with their curled fringes 
lying upon the pale rounded cheek. 

Presently Florence opened her eyes again and 
looked at Fan. Her lips moved, as if she was 
about to speak, but no sound came. Then she 
put out her hand and touched Fan’s, while a 
smile flickered over her face. True to her orders. 
Fan kept quite still, though her heart beat with 
delight that this first gleam of consciousness 
should be directed to her. By the time Miss 
Brocklehurst had returned it had vanished, but 
Fan treasured it in her heart, and when her aunt 
signed to her to go out of the room, she crept 
away to tell the good news to Miss Maxwell. 

Hattie Oliver came to the door in the after- 


28 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

noon and tried to persuade Fan to come out with 
her. 

“ No,” Fan said, with an air of importance, “ I 
can't ; Miss Florence may ask for me. Oh ! she 
is so lovely, and you never saw such hair. They 
are going to cut it off and give me some ; it’s 
like gold silk.” 

“ Dear me ! ” Hattie said ; “ you are quite crazy 
over Miss Florence. I have seen her hair fifty 
times when she was riding into the town, and I 
don’t think it is nearly as gold-coloured as Minnie 
Bradley’s.” 

Fan had been holding this conversation just 
outside her aunt’s door, and spoke in low tones. 

“ Have you heard any news of George Bradley?” 

“No,” Fan said; “how should I? I have not 
been out all day.” 

“ It is so mean of him to try and throw the 
blame of the accident on Teddy. Some of the 
girls at school said they were sorry for me about 
my brother. And when I said I was sorry too 
that he was not believed when he said he had 
not thro\m the cracker, they laughed ; and Minnie 
Bradley said she did not know why any one 
should mind; it did not much matter who did 
the mischief, and there was no great harm in 
letting off a squib ; she wondered I cared about 
it. I said I cared that my brother should be 


CONSULTATIONS 


29 


falsely accused, and that it was cowardly of the 
boy who had done it not to own it. I should 
have thought, Fan, being my chief friend, you 
would have been more sorry for me and Teddy; 
but you are so taken up with Miss Florence, you 
can think of nothing else.” 

“ That’s nonsense, Hattie. Don’t go away like 
that” — for poor Hattie felt sore that Fan entered 
so little into her trouble about her brother. 

She met him walking up and down on the 
pavement on the other side of Miss Brocklehurst’s 
house. 

“ I say ! how is Miss Maxwell ? ” 

Oh, I don’t know. Fan is so full of her you 
had better ask her. It has quite turned her 
head having a young lady like Miss Maxwell in 
the house, and she goes on about her golden hair 
and her loveliness till I am quite sick of it.” 

“ J ealous ! is that it, Hattie ? ” 

Hattie did not answer, but ran off towards 
home, saying that it was getting quite dark, and 
her mother would want them both to go in to tea. 

But Teddy lingered. He saw the carriage from 
Crawley Court drive up, and Miss Maxwell get 
in, while a maid got out of it. The maid had 
come to watch by Miss Florence till a trained 
nurse arrived from London. She was not at all 
pleased to have to take up her abode at Miss 


30 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Brocklehurst’s, and having no self-control, gave 
vent to a torrent of lamentations when she saw 
Florence, crying, and saying she ought to be taken 
out of this little pokey room. 

Miss Brocklehurst had borne a good deal that 
day, but, much to her credit, had not lost her 
temper. The airs of gentry like Mr. Maxwell 
she might put up with, but not the airs of a 
dressed-up minx with a hat and feathers, and a 
pair of gloves with four buttons on her hands. 

“You’ll please to come out of this room,” she 
said. “ I’ve orders to keep it quiet.” 

“ I shall stay with my dear young lady,” was 
the reply; and kneeling down by her. Miss Watkins, 
as she chose to be called, began to call Florence 
by her name and beg her pretty darling to speak 
to her. 

Happily Dr. Nicholson came in at this moment. 
He did not say one word, but he put his hand 
on Miss Watkins’ arm and drew her out of the 
room. Fan was in the passage, and he signalled 
to her to go and take up her place by Miss Max- 
well, “ And mind,” he said, “ there must be no 
talking and no excitement ; you are a quiet little 
thing, and I can trust you. Now,” he said, turn- 
ing to the maid, “ go and take off your hat, and 
when you can control yourself, you shall return to 
the young lady.” 


CONSULTATIONS 3 1 

Watkins was weeping angry tears, and declared 
she should go back at once to Crawley. 

“Very well,” Dr. Nicholson said quietly; “per- 
haps it would be the best plan, unless, like a 
sensible woman, you can control yourself.” 

These stern words had the desired effect, and 
Watkins stopped crying, and went into the back- 
parlour to take off her hat and arrange her hair 
by the small oblong mirror over the mantelshelf. 

Hattie Oliver walked home with a somewhat 
heavy heart. That Fan should not seem to care 
for her, and was so full of little Miss Maxwell, 
gave her a jealous pang. Hattie was a girl of 
deep feelings, and although far less demonstrative 
than Fan, she loved her very much. They had 
been friends ever since they were little children, 
were in the same classes at school, and had told 
each other all the little troubles and pleasures 
of their school-life. But this was only the be- 
ginning of what Hattie had to bear, and with her, 
as with many others who feel themselves slighted 
by those they love, a little root of bitterness sprung 
up in her heart, and she showed it by very seldom 
calling at Miss Brocklehurst’s, whether going to or 
returning from school, which had been her habit 
for years. 

So the days passed, and although Florence 
Maxwell’s condition became more hopeful, she 


32 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

still lay in the parlour, and showed uneasiness if 
Fan left her, and pleasure when she returned, by 
a smile ; and once, to Fan’s supreme delight, she 
said, “ Kiss me.” 

Miss Maxwell came over every day with flowers, 
which made the little parlour like a conservatory 
with beautiful roses and orchids and lilies. 

Mr. Maxwell also paid frequent visits. He was 
impatient at the slow progress made, and was 
often very trying to Miss Brocklehurst, never 
showing any gratitude for what she had done in 
giving up her house to his daughter and the 
nurse from London, who had taken Watkins’ 
place, and who was just one of those delightful 
women who are perfectly capable and know their 
work, and yet are gentle and pleasant in their 
manner, and win all hearts, not only by their 
skill, but by their cheerful readiness to do all 
that is required of them. Even Miss Brockle- 
hurst had to confess that, though she could not 
abide the dress, and had no liking for nurses in 
general, Nurse Bose was better than she expected, 
and a most obliging young person. 


CHAPTER IV 

DEPARTURE 

“Why doesn’t Fan Wheeler come to tea with you, 
Hattie ? She has not darkened these doors for a 
month, I should say. Have you quarrelled ? ” 
“She doesn’t wish to come, mother. Fan is 
too much taken up with her new friend, Miss 
Florence, to care for me now.” 

“ Nonsense, child ! I think Fan Wheeler is 
too sensible to think she can ever be a friend of 
a young lady like little Miss Maxwell.” 

“ Is she ? ” Hattie said. “ Ask Teddy what he 
thinks. But really I don’t care twopence about 
it. I find Minnie Bradley very friendly, and I 
want to go with her to a party at Mrs. Slade’s 
at Lynch Farm to-morrow. They are going to 
have all sorts of fun because Bob Slade is come 
home f :om sea. I suppose I may go, mother ? ” 

“ Well, if Teddy goes with you. I am not 
very partial to the Slades, nor to Minnie Bradley, 
for that matter. I can’t forget the Bradleys 
laying the blame of the accident on Teddy, when 
it was George who let off the squib. Here comes 

33 0 


34 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Teddy. My dear, you are very late ; but I have 
kept your tea hot for you.” 

Teddy threw his books down, and tossed his cap 
and comforter across the kitchen. 

“ Why, Teddy, what is the matter ? You look 
awfully put out.” 

“ Put out ! Yes, I should think I am put out. 
IVe a great mind to thrash George Bradley till 
he cries for mercy.” 

“ 0 Teddy, Teddy ! don’t talk like that,” his 
mother said. 

“ I can’t help it. That sneak has done his 
best to make me out a liar, and Mr. Morris sent 
for me after school, and after telling me I had 
done very well this term, he said he wished to 
make me a pupil-teacher after Christmas, but he 
could not do it, while the whole school thought I 
had told a lie about Miss Maxwell’s accident. He 
asked me to tell the truth, and then it would be 
quite right. I have told the truth, and there is 
an end of it.” 

“ I think,” said Hattie, “ it is a great fuss to 
make about nothing. Miss Maxwell is getting 
better, and is to be taken home in a day or two ; 
so Minnie Bradley says.” 

“Yes; then I suppose we shall see Miss Fan 
again, unless she makes herself ill with crying for 
the loss of her dear friend. Well, I am sorry I 


DEPARTURE 3 5 

came home in such an ill-temper, mother,” Teddy- 
said, going up to his mother and kissing her. 

“I am sorry you should be so vexed, dear,” 
Mrs. Oliver said ; “ but sit down and get a good 
tea. There is a word in the Bible which your 
poor father always held by — that if you do well, 
and suffer for it, and take it patiently, it is accept- 
able to God.” 

Teddy made no rejoinder to this, but took his 
mother’s advice, and ate a hearty tea, which per- 
haps showed that the vexation about the wrongful 
accusation, as to the cause of Miss Maxwell’s acci- 
dent, had not spoiled his appetite. At the same 
time, if there was anything on which Teddy prided 
himself, it was honesty in word and deed, and this 
made him resent the imputation laid upon him. 

The time had come for Florence Maxwell to be 
taken home, and preparations were made for her 
departure. Florence was still very unlike the rosy 
child who used to ride into Fountains on her pony, 
with her golden hair flying in the wind, and excite 
the admiration of the people in the market-place 
as she reined in her pretty pony at the doors of 
the shops, while the groom went in with messages 
entrusted to him by the housekeeper at Crawley 
Court. A pale, fragile child, all her bright hair 
gone, seated in Miss Brocklehurst’s best easy-chair, 
her head supported by cushions sent from her 


3^ FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

home, bore indeed but little resemblance to the 
bright, active Florence Maxwell, whose accident 
had made such a sensation in the little town of 
Fountains. 

It was Christmas Eve, and Watkins had packed 
everything ready for the carriage, which was to 
call for Florence at three o’clock. 

*‘And glad and thankful you must be. Miss 
Florence, to get out of this pokey place.” 

The colour rushed to Florence’s pale cheeks. 

“ I am not glad,” she said ; “ I am sorry. I 
can’t hear to leave Fan.” 

Poor Fan, who was doing her best to be brave, 
took Florence’s little white hand in hers and 
kissed it. 

“You will like,” she said, in a voice which 
trembled a little, “ to be in your beautiful home, 
and you are sure to have lots of Christmas pre- 
sents.” 

“ I don’t want any presents,” Florence said fret- 
fully. “ I want you to go home with me. I wish 
father would come ; I’d make him say ' Yes.’ ” 

“But,” Fan said, “aunt would say ‘No’; she 
is always telling me I shall get high notions since 
you took a fancy to me, as she calls it.” 

“ A fancy ! I care more for you than any one, 
except, of course, father and Winifred. I want 
you to come and live with me. When I am 


DEPARTURE 


37 


better I am to have another governess, and then 
you can do your lessons with me. It is too bad 
of them to take you from me.” And tears rolled 
down Florence’s pale cheeks. 

“Oh, don’t cry,” Fan said. “I am trying hard 
not to cry, and it will make your head ache, and 
your sister will be so vexed.” 

“ I don’t care. She should make father let you 
come home with me ; it is so cruel of them.” 

Watkins now returned with a tray with Flor- 
ence’s dinner — a delicate sweetbread, and little 
curls of brown potatoes, and a small bottle of 
champagne. 

“ I don’t want any dinner. I hate sweetbread.” 

“ Stuff and nonsense !” Watkins said. “ You are 
to eat your dinner, and when you have done the 
first course, you shall have a meringue. Mrs. 
Bayne took such pains to make them. They’ll 
just melt in your mouth. There, Fan,” Watkins 
continued, “ your dinner is ready in the kitchen ; 
your aunt told me to call you. It’s cold boiled 
beef and potatoes ! If that was your dinner. 
Miss Florrie, you might grumble.” 

Fan whispered, “Do, dear, do try;” and then 
there was a sharp tap at the door, and Miss Brockle- 
hurst’s voice saying in no very pleasant tones — 

“Come to dinner, Fan. What do you mean 
by keeping me waiting ? ” 


38 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Poor Fan went away very reluctantly to her 
cold beef and potatoes, leaving Watkins and 
Florrie in the midst of a combat about eating 
the rejected dinner. Fan felt as if every morsel 
choked her, and she could hardly keep back her 
tears. 

“ Well, now we are to be quit to-day of the 
child and her maid, I hope you will be a good 
girl and help me to put everything to rights. 
There’s a deal of mending wanted, and I think 
you are old enough to leave school. I ain’t going 
to send you back, and I went to Miss Hunt yester- 
day, and told her as much.” 

Here was another blow ! It was bad enough 
to lose Miss Florence, for whom the imaginative 
child had conceived a remarkable affection. Ever 
since the day she was brought into her aunt’s 
house, every thought was centred on her. She 
had during the last two or three weeks of con- 
valescence borne with Florence’s irritability, and 
what Watkins called her “whimsies and fidgets.” 

Florence’s head was still far from being in a satis- 
factory condition ; and the great London doctor, 
who had again been sent for, said the little invalid 
was to be kept very quiet, and no attempt made 
to cross her in anything. 

The move to Crawley Court had been put off 
several times, and Dr. Nicholson had only sane- 


DEPARTURE 


39 


tioned it being carried out at Mr. Maxwell’s earnest 
desire that the child should be with him on Christ- 
mas Day. 

For the last month Florence’s elder sister had 
been quite ill with a severe cold. She was always 
delicate, and every winter she was confined to the 
house during the early part of the year, unless, as 
had been the case once or twice, she had been 
sent to the South of France. 

Miss Maxwell was fully conscious that Florence 
was too much indulged, and that her father had, 
since the death of her mother, made an idol of 
her. She had done her best to counteract this 
indulgence, but her health prevented her from 
doing all she wished. Several governesses had 
been dismissed as too strict; and Mr. Maxwell 
resented any attempt at salutary discipline in the 
schoolroom, or out of it. 

Fortunately Florence was naturally of a sweet 
disposition ; her faults were those which a child- 
hood of indulgence too often foster and develop. 

No one had ever asked or expected her to give 
up her own will for the sake of others, and it 
never occurred to her that she would be the 
happier for doing so. 

Fan had become necessary to her comfort in 
her long confinement in Miss Brocklehurst’s little 
parlour, and she was fretful and discontented 


40 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

because she was to lose her when she returned to 
Crawley Court. 

What Fan would feel, and how hard she was 
struggling to hide her grief at the parting, did 
not strike her; and she w:as determined to get 
her father’s leave to have Fan with her, to amuse 
her, and give up her whole time to her, as 
she had done for all these weeks. As to Miss 
Brocklehurst making any objection to the plan — 
that did not matter; she would have to let Fan 
come, and must be told so. 

The carriage arrived at the appointed hour, 
and Mr. Maxwell had called for Dr. Nicholson 
on the way and asked him to superintend his 
little girl’s removal. So Dr. Nicholson walked 
quickly into the little parlour, and seeing Florence 
was dressed and ready, he took her in his arms 
and was about to carry her to the carriage when 
she cried out — 

''Father — tell father I want Fan to come 
with me. I can’t — I can’t bear to part with 
Fan.” 

"Now, now!” Dr. Nicholson said. "We must 
have no tears, or you will have a headache.” And 
without saying another word he went out of the 
little parlour and through the narrow lobby to 
the carriage, where Watkins was waiting, having 
arranged cushions and rugs across a board laid 


DEPARTUEE 4 1 

across from one seat to another, which was like a 
bed for the little invalid. 

“I want Fan; I want to kiss Fan,” Florence 
exclaimed. 

“Nonsense!” Watkins said. “You have bid 
her good-bye a dozen times.” 

“ Father ! father ! ” Florence cried, but Mr. 
Maxwell, who was standing by the door, only 
kissed his hand to his child. The carriage door 
was shut, the endows closed, and the horses went 
off at a gentle pace towards Crawley. 

A groom was waiting with Mr. Maxwell’s horse, 
and with a few formal words to Miss Brocklehurst 
he mounted and rode at a quick trot, that he 
might be at his own house as soon, or before the 
carriage. 

Miss Brocklehurst stood with folded arms 
watching the departure of those who had been 
in her house for more than nine weeks. Mr. 
Maxwell had given her an envelope, saying, 
“ With best wishes for Christmas,” but she had 
not opened it. 

A few kind words, a little gracious acknowledg- 
ment of all she had done for his child, would 
have doubled the value of the crisp bank-note 
which the envelope contained. 

“ Say something kind when you give it to Miss^ 
Brocklehurst, father,” Miss Maxwell had said. 


42 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

But to say something kind to those he thought 
his inferiors was not in Mr. Maxwell’s line. He 
was thankful to get his darling child away from 
the little narrow parlour, and thought with plea- 
sure of the delightful change it would be, and how 
all the presents prepared for her would surprise 
and please her. 

“ She must not have too much excitement on 
first returning home,” Dr. Nicholson had said ; 
“and then we may hope she will have a good 
night.” 

No one gave Fan a thought; no one guessed 
how her poor little head ached as she was roused 
from her now tearless sorrow by her aunt’s sharp 
words — 

“ Come, we must begin clearing up at once. 
What is the matter with you, child ? You are 
like some one in a dream. You ain’t going to 
fret for little Miss Florence ? She’ll forget you in 
a week, and you’ll never see any more of her. 
It’s just as well, for it never answers to take folks 
out of the station in life where God has placed 
them. The idea of you going to Crawley Court, 
and being set up by it ! If Mr. Maxwell allowed 
it, I shouldn’t — so there’s an end of it.” 

“An end! An end of it!” poor little Fan 
said to herself as she picked up a bit of ribbon 
which was under the bolster of the sofa, and 


DEPARTURE 


43 


recognised it as the bow of blue ribbon which 
had tied up the golden hair on the day of the 
accident. She ran up with it to her own little 
room, and kissing it again and again, threw herself 
on her bed and cried bitterly. 


CHAPTER V 


HOME-COMING. 

Floeence was carried upstairs to her own sitting- 
room. Her father had superintended its decora- 
tion with a new and lovely wall-paper, with pretty 
floral design. He had taken great pains about 
the appearance of the room, and Winifred was 
almost tired of the constant appeals to her about 
the engravings which were to hang on the walls, 
the stand of choice flowers in the square bay 
window, the arrangement of sofa and chairs. 

Mr. Maxwell was a quiet reserved man, and he 
was thought, by many others besides Miss Brockle- 
hurst, “ lofty ” and ungracious in his manner. 
But there was a soft place in his heart for his 
little daughter ; and though he relied a great 
deal on Winifred’s opinion, and was often anxious 
about her health, his love for her was different 
from that which he lavished on the little girl who 
had had such a narrow escape of her life by the 
fall from Jess. 

Mr. Maxwell was therefore terribly disappointed 
when Florence was laid on the sofa, and, looking 

44 


HOME-COMING 


45 


round the room which had been prepared for 
her with so much thought, took no notice of 
it. It never seemed to strike her that this 
indifference to all he had prepared for her was a 
disappointment. 

“ I hope you are glad to be in your own room 
again,” Mr. Maxwell said, bending over Florence. 
“ And do you see how Winifred and I have altered 
and improved it, I think ? Don’t you ? I have 
kept back all your presents till to-morrow, which 
is the right thing to do, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t know — I don’t care. I want Fan — 
do let me have Fan.” 

“ Oh, as soon as you get better I have a very 
nice little companion coming here to hve with 
you. You won’t want any one else then.” 

“ I shall ! I shall ! I shall hate a new girl. 
I want Miss Brocklehurst’s little Fan — no one 
else — no one else ! ” 

And Florence burst into tears. 

“ She is tired, father,” Miss Maxwell said ; “ she 
is tired and over-excited on first coming home. 
We must not talk too much to her.” 

“ Winifred ! Winifred ! ” Florence cried, “ ask 
father to let me have Fan. I want her ! I want 
her!” 

Mr. Maxwell was not a man who showed his 
feelings generally, but he looked so vexed, and 


4^ FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

even sad, that Miss Maxwell was sorry for 
him. 

She sat down by Florence and held her head 
against her shoulder, and said in a low voice — 

“ Don’t you see, dear, how you are vexing father 
by not caring for all the trouble he has taken 
to make your room as pretty as possible ? You 
should seem pleased — tell him you are pleased.” 

“But I don’t care about it, or anything, as I 
have no Fan to be with me.” 

“ 0 Florence ! You have father and me. Do 
try and thank father for all he has done.” 

“That will do, Winifred,” Mr. Maxwell said. 
“ Perhaps she wishes herself back in Miss Brockle- 
hurst’s parlour ! ” And then, without another 
word, Mr. Maxwell left the room. 

Mrs. Bayne now came herself with a dainty 
tea, especially prepared for the occasion. It was 
set out on a table covered with a pretty cloth 
Winifred had worked for it, with “ F. M.” in the 
corner. 

Mrs. Bayne said she was thankful to see Miss 
Florence at home again, and looking so nice too, 
though she had lost her pretty hair. 

But poor Florence could only smile faintly 
through her tears at Mrs. Bayne; and Watkins 
coming in, made matters worse. 

“To think of you crying when your papa has 



HOME-COMING. 


Page 46 









HOME-COMING 


4; 


made the room fit for a princess ! I call it very 
ungrateful, that I do ! Mrs. Bayne has no notion 
what a little pokey parlour you’ve hved in all 
these weeks; she would be surprised at you, 
Miss Florence.” 

“ Dear me 1 ” exclaimed Mrs. Bayne. “ To think 
of a young lady shut up in a room like that; 
sure it must be a treat to get away from it ! 
Taste these scones, dear Miss Florrie; they are 
split open, with Devonshire cream inside, and are 
as light as a feather. Do ’ee now try one.” 

“ No ; I don’t want one,” and Florence turned 
away her head ; and Mrs. Bayne, discouraged, for- 
bore making any further remark, threw back her 
mauve cap-strings over her capacious shoulders, 
and left the room as Mr. Maxwell had done, say- 
ing to herself, “ I never saw a child so altered ; 
she that used to be such a bright little thing. I 
expect her brain is injured, and it will be a terrible 
thing for the poor master.” 

When they were alone together, Miss Maxwell 
said, “ I think you are very tired, darling, and as 
soon as you have had yom tea Watkins will put 
you to bed.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed. I don’t want any tea.” 

“ Florence, don’t you see how you vexed father 
by not speaking to him ? He has been so unhappy 
about you being away from home so long, and has 


4^ TAJs^NY AND HER FRIENDS 

taken such pains to make this room pretty as a 
surprise for you.” 

“ I want to have Fan Wheeler here ; then I 
shan’t mind so much. Go and ask father to let 
her come, Winnie.” 

“ I do not like to trouble him any more now ; 
and, Florence, you must try not to be selfish.” 

“ I am not selfish.” 

“ It is selfishness to think only of what you 
would like best, and forget to be pleased and 
grateful for so much that has been done for you. 
I have had to fight against the same thing. Often 
after my illnesses I have found the ‘ getting- well ’ 
time so much harder than when I was too ill to 
move or do anything. Y ou are in the ‘ getting- 
well ’ time, and you must fight, as I have had to 
fight, against thinking so much of your own com- 
fort, and so little of those who have done what 
they could to make your long, long confinement 
brighter.” 

“ I will try ; but if I only had Fan, I would try 
ten times as much.” 

But Winifred thought it a good sign when 
Florence began to eat Mrs. Bayne’s scones with a 
relish, and admired the tea-cloth and the pretty 
little tea-service, which was one of her numerous 
Christmas presents, some of which she had not 
yet seen. 


HOME-COMING 


49 


Florence Maxwell was suffering from the indul- 
gence which she had had ever since she could 
remember anything. Till this accident by a fall 
from her pony, she had never known an ache or 
a pain, never been thwarted in any desire she 
might have, and while she was well and strong, her 
naturally sweet disposition had been in her favour. 

It is easy to be pleasant and good-tempered when 
there is nothing to cross one’s inclination, and so 
easy to be happy with good health and spirit, 
feeling enjoyment of life. But sickness very often 
brings out the true character, and when there is 
no real foundation for good-temper and pleasant, 
attractive manners, they wither away under the 
breath of sorrow and pain and trouble. The 
reason for this is not far to seek, and it shows 
that without real Love in our hearts — the love 
of Christ, whose whole life on earth was its living 
witness — many a fair home built on the sand 
falls into ruins, unable to meet the stormy wind 
and tempest. 

Most children have their “ getting- well ” time 
from the many forms of illness which are common 
to us all, or, if not from illness, from accidents, in 
some degree like little Florence Maxwell, and then 
is the time to be gentle, considerate, and grateful 
to those who have, like Mr. Maxwell, done all that 
was possible to soften their trial. 

D 


50 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

While Florence was pining for Fan, she was 
finding the return to the homely daily life of her 
aunt’s house very irksome. 

The Christmas-bells were ringing out a merry 
peal when Fan walked demurely to church by 
Miss Brocklehurst’s side. She was conscious that 
many of her old school companions looked coldly 
upon her, and Minnie Bradley, coming up, said — 
“Whatever will you do, Fan, now your fine 
friend is gone ? You’ll have to put up with me, 
I shouldn’t wonder.” 

Miss Brocklehurst always walked at a dignified 
pace to church, and never exchanged more than 
a short greeting with her neighbours. Fan was 
a little behind her aunt, or Minnie Bradley would 
not have dared to speak to her. 

“You don’t look much like a merry Christ- 
mas,” another girl, Bessie Sharpe, said. “How 
many grand presents have you got ? ” 

Miss Brocklehurst was in the porch now, and 
turning her head, said sharply — 

“ Frances, what are you about ? ” 

To be called Frances was always a sign of her 
aunt’s displeasure, and Fan shook off Minnie 
Bradley’s hand, which had been put within her 
arm. 

“ High and mighty! I thought so. Who cares?” 
Fan felt very much hurt and angry; but it 


HOME-COMING 


51 


was some comfort to see Hattie Oliver smile 
pleasantly as she passed the bench where she 
was sitting with her mother and Teddy, and 
presently the dear old Christmas-hymn brought 
its message of peace and goodwill. 

The service was bright, and the sermon was 
from a young clergyman who had come to assist 
the aged vicar on Christmas Day. The story, the 
old, old story, which never loses its power, of the 
Child Jesus in the cradle at Bethlehem, was told 
in a few simple but most effective words. And 
the love which had brought the Lord of Life to 
tread the paths of self-forgetting and absolute 
obedience in His childhood to the will of His 
Father in heaven and of His Mother on earth, 
was brought out so forcibly that old people and 
children alike were deeply attentive. To follow in 
His steps was the outcome of the whole matter ; 
to let Christmas peace dwell in hearts where no 
discord should mar the melody of the Angel’s 
Song, whence all bitterness and strife should be 
banished, and the blessing promised to the peace- 
maker, should be sent down as dew from heaven. 

Fan was quite sorry when the time came to 
leave the church, and, glancing at her aunt’s face, 
she saw to her surprise there was a tear rolling 
down her face. 

Miss Brocklehurst hastily wiped it away and 


$2 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

remained to the Holy Communion, with a very 
fair proportion of the congregation. 

Fan hoped she should not meet Minnie Brad- 
ley, but determined, if she did, she would not 
show she was vexed with what she had said 
before they went into church. 

To her great relief, Minnie was far in front of 
her with the Slades, and the sailor who had 
come home not long before to Lynch Farm was 
talking and laughing in loud ringing tones with 
George Bradley, while Minnie and Joe Slade’s 
sister Bessie joined in, and Minnie was far too 
much occupied with her companions to think any 
more of Fan. 

Presently Hattie Oliver overtook her and said — 

“ May I walk home with you. Fan ? ” 

“ 0 Hattie ! I am very glad to have you. 
I — I have felt so lonely to-day, and Minnie 
Bradley ” 

She stopped. Had not the clergyman said, 
‘‘No discord should spoil the melody of the 
Christmas Day ” ? and if she talked of Minnie 
she was sure to feel vexed again. 

“ So little Miss Maxwell is gone home. You 
will be quite lost without her. I feel sorry for 
you. Fan — that I do.” 

Fan put her hand into Hattie’s and gave it a 
squeeze. 


HOME-COMING 


S3 


“ It is very kind of you, Hattie. No one else 
seems to think that I am sad because I have lost 
Florence — Miss Maxwell, I mean.” 

“ Well, of course, some of the girls have felt 
put out that you seemed to have given them up, 
and I don’t say but what I have been hurt too ; 
but, as mother says to Teddy about the squibs 
let off which frightened Miss Maxwell’s pony, 
‘ Let bygones be bygones.’ And I am not going 
to be jealous any more; so let us be friends, as 
we always have been.” 

Fan felt too glad for many words, and when 
Hattie asked her to come to tea the next day, she 
gladly said she would come if she could get her 
aunt’s leave. 

“ It is Boxing-Day, and there are always a lot 
of rough people about, and there is a dance in the 
room behind ‘ The Three Feathers,’ Fan. Minnie 
Bradley and the Slades are going, but Freddie 
said it was no place for me, though Minnie had 
bothered me to go. So if you will come to our 
place we will have a nice happy evening.” 

The girls parted at the door of Miss Brockle- 
hurst’s house with a kiss, and Fan went into the 
parlour, now looking so cold and desolate. 

She felt very much inclined to sit down and 
cry, but thought better of it — got the matches 
and lighted the fire, for the parlour was always 


54 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


used on Sundays, and of course Christmas Day 
was like a Sunday; and then she went to the 
kitchen to see if the plum-pudding had boiled 
long enough, and to set the table in the little 
back sitting-room for dinner. 


CHAPTER VI 


BOXING-DAY 

Boxing-Day at Fountains seemed to disturb the 
little town from its accustomed calm. 

Travelling shows and a theatre had taken up 
their places in a field outside the town, and a 
number of boys and girls from the neighbour- 
ing villages were tempted thus to spend their 
pennies for the sight of some dwarf or giant, or 
calf with two heads, or other wonders of a like 
kind. 

The theatre had a picture on the platform, 
painted in gaudy colours, which purported to be 
the representation of the play that was acted 
within, and many of the children looked up at it 
with awe, and wished they had three pennies to 
pay for admission. 

George Bradley and his sister had managed to 
see the play, and gave a thrilling account of it to 
the throng outside, exciting their curiosity, which 
very few fortunately were able to gratify. 

The young clergyman who had preached on 
Christmas Day had hoped to find some entertain-^ 

55 


$6 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

ment got up in Fountains wliicli would attract 
the crowd of holiday-makers, who naturally look 
for amusement on days like these. 

Mr. Robertson was full of energy, and having 
obtained the old rector’s permission, he set about 
trying to organise something in the boys’ school- 
room. 

It was late in the day to attempt this, but 
Mr. Robertson was determined, when he heard of 
the dance at the “ Feathers,” and the theatre in 
what was called Wright’s Fields, to do something. 
The schoolmaster and his wife lent their aid, and 
Miss Hunt agreed to sing some popular songs. 
Mr. Robertson borrowed a violin, and he and Miss 
Hunt were to play a duet. Recruits were beaten 
up in every part of the town, and amongst them 
were Minnie and George Bradley. 

“ They can recite very nicely,” Miss Hunt said, 
“and there is Fanny Wheeler, who would help 
with the tea.” 

For a tea was indispensable, and Mr. Robertson, 
though he felt this was a difficulty at a short 
notice, got round Mrs. Puff, who kept the con- 
fectioner’s shop in the market-place, and she 
agreed to supply bread and butter and cakes, 
which had been made in the hope of Christmas 
purchasers, and had been left on hand. 

“ You’ll excuse me, sir, but who is to pay ? ” 


BOXING-DAY 5 7 

“ 111 see to that. You shall not be the loser,” 
was the reply. 

“ And how many do you expect, sir ? ” 

“Ah! that is a puzzle; but I think we can 
keep a reserve store if you supply enough for 
fifty, and will kindly take back what is left.” 

“ What it is to be young, to be sure ! ” Mrs. 
Puff said, as she saw the young parson’s lithe, 
tall figure scud across the market-place on his 
way to the Eectory, where he had been spending 
two or three days with his old cousin, who, hear- 
ing he was at liberty, wanted him to help him 
through with his Christmas services. 

Mr. Robertson would have liked to have had 
a service in the church for St. Stephen’s Day, 
but Fountains and Fountains’ rector were far 
too much behindhand for such a service to be 
possible. The clerk was out on a holiday, and 
the sexton who rang the bell was also gone to 
see a married daughter. 

“No, no,” the rector said; “you can’t have a 
service, and the people aren’t likely to come if 
you had one. Boxing-Day, too I They are too 
busy getting their Christmas-boxes to go to 
church.” 

This made Mr. Robertson feel rather sad ; but 
he remembered the rector was over eighty, and 
in his young days churches were only opened 


58 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

once a week, and the festivals which we now so 
gladly keep were passed by unnoticed. 

So, having got permission to organise a little 
entertainment, Mr. Eobertson had to be content. 
As soon as he left Mrs. Puff, he returned to the 
schoolhouse and got a large sheet of paper, on 
which he printed in red ink : — “ Entertainment 
and Tea in the Boys’ Schoolroom this Evening, 
at Six o’clock. Admission, One Penny.” 

This paper was fastened on one of the black- 
boards, and hung on the door, and another was 
written in less conspicuous characters which Mrs. 
Puff consented to put in the half of her window 
from which the shutters were drawn. 

By twelve o’clock the news had spread through 
the town, and Miss Hunt had been to Mrs. Oliver’s 
house to ask her if she would kindly come and 
help with the tea, and allow Hattie to recite a little 
piece with her brother in the form of a dialogue. 

“ Fanny Wheeler was coming to tea here,” 
Mrs. Ohver said ; “ but I am sure she and Teddy 
will like to hear the music, and they can bring 
Fanny along with them, and I shall be glad to be 
of service. My children are not the ones to run 
about in Wright’s Fields to the shows, wasting their 
money for rubbish and nonsense.” 

“ Yes,” Miss Hunt said. “ I know you have 
brought them up very carefully, Mrs. Oliver, and 


BOXING-DAY 


59 


they are very well-behaved children ; but I always 
wish this affair about the cracker, which caused 
Miss Maxwell’s accident, could be cleared up.” 

“Well, it is cleared up so far, miss, that my 
boy had nought to do with it, and he has taken 
it very much to heart that Mr. Bond should have 
ever doubted his word.” 

“I hope the culprit, whoever he is, will be 
found out one day,” Miss Hunt said. 

“ Yes, miss, so do I. I don’t hold with Mrs. 
Bradley, who says it was only a boy’s monkey 
trick. It might have cost little Miss Maxwell her 
life. I don’t know what Fan Wheeler will do 
without the little lady. She was always so friendly 
with my Hattie till she was taken up with Miss 
Maxwell. But, as I said, she would be glad to 
be friends again when the little lady was gone, 
and so she is.” 

It was settled that Miss Hunt should tell Fan 
of the change in the plans, and that Mrs. Oliver 
and Hattie would call for her on their way to the 
schoolroom. 

Miss Hunt was very successful in beating up 
recruits for this evening. Dr. Nicholson said he 
would come and help with a song ; and the good 
doctor was known to be an excellent comic singer 
of songs which were humorous and never vulgar. 

Miss Hunt found Miss Brocklehurst a little 


6o FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

inclined to hold herself aloof from the entertain- 
ment. 

“ Got up in a hurry, it isn’t likely she should 
care to come ; but she had no objection to Fan 
going with Mrs. Oliver; and of course, if Dr. 
Nicholson was going to sing, there would be 
something worth listening to for a girl like Fan. 
She has moped a good deal since little Miss 
Maxwell left me. I was thankful to get the 
house clear. I didn’t object to the child, poor 
little thing ; but that maid Watkins — I was often 
fit to turn her out of the house, her airs were 
such I ” 

“ I am sorry,” Miss Hunt said, anxious to turn 
Miss Brocklehurst away from discussing the airs 
of Watkins — “ I am sorry Fanny is not to return 
to school.” 

“ I want her at home. She is clever with the 
needle, and I think of bringing her up to dress- 
making. You know, I dare say, her poor mother 
made a foolish marriage, and though her good- 
for-nothing father may be alive for all I know, 
she is an orphan as far as he is concerned.” 

“Fan was a good child at school,” Miss Hunt 
said, “ and making progress. Perhaps you will 
alter your determination.” 

“ I never change my mind,” Miss Brocklehurst 
said, folding her arms with a decision Fan knew 


BOXING-DAY 


6l 


when she said it was unalterable. “ I never 
change. What I say I mean.” 

“Where is Fan ?” Miss Hunt asked. 

“ Upstairs doing a little job for me. I can call 
her if you please.” 

“No. I will leave you to tell her that instead 
of taking tea with Hattie Oliver she is to go to 
the entertainment with Mrs. Oliver, and be ready 
at five o’clock.” 

“If I am only successful in getting hold of 
some of the boys and girls who would otherwise 
be lounging about the streets or in amongst these 
shows, I shall not mind the trouble.” 

This was said by Mr. Robertson to the school- 
master, who was not accustomed to any one so 
full of life and energy as Mr. Robertson. 

“ Well, sir,” Mr. Sharpe said, “ it is very kind of 
you to take the trouble, as I say, but I am afraid 
we shan’t catch many boys and youths. The 
girls may come, though I know the dance at the 
‘ Feathers ’ was very full last year.” 

“Let us hope it will empty on this Boxing- 
Day. You and I must do our best to keep up 
the ball and not let the entertainment flag.” 

“ I’ll try what I can do. I am now going to 
hunt up a lad I know who plays on the French 
horn and his sister on the concertina. I should 


62 


FANNY AND lIEFw FRIENDS 


like to have decorated the walls a bit,” Mr. Sharpe 
said ; “ but you see, sir, time presses.” 

“ I’ll see to that. Give me the names of two 
or three boys who will help me to bring some 
laurels and holly from the Rectory garden.” 

“The rector is very particular, sir, about his 
shrubs ; or I should say Mr. Scott the gardener 
is. He nearly bit my head off last Christmas 
when I asked for a snip or two of laurel.” 

“ I’ll brave that,” Mr. Robertson said, “ and get 
round him. Tell me where to find the boys.” 

“Well, Teddy Oliver, he would be pleased to 
help, and George Bradley is a big strong fellow, 
and little Jim Pearson. The Olivers live outside 
the town in a cottage not far from Wright’s 
Meadows, where the shows are placed — worse luck. 
There’s a good deal goes on there which oughtn’t 
to. The lads get very free with bad cider they 
buy at the ‘ Goat and Bell.’ You’ll see the public- 
house, sir, just as you turn into the lane where 
the Olivers live.” 

Mr. Robertson was setting off on his errand, 
when he suddenly stopped — 

“Can you spare time to come with me, Mr. 
Sharpe ? It is not twelve o’clock yet, and you 
could point out the boys to me who would help.” 

But Mr. Sharpe hesitated. He had been too 
long at Fountains to be ready to wake up to any 


BOXING-DAY 


63 


unusual exertion. Mr. Robertson was a riddle to 
him, and he could not understand how it was 
that a young clergyman should take all this pains 
to amuse a set of people he had never seen 
before. Mr. Sharpe could quite understand a 
clergyman preaching sermons and lecturing boys 
for bad behaviour ; but that he should only appa- 
rently be thiuking of entertaining them was, as 
he said, “ beyond him ” ! 

Mr. Robertson saw the hesitation and said — 

“Very well; if you will help me to get the 
room ready, I will go alone.” 

Mr. Robertson went first to Wright’s Fields, 
where he saw for himself that boys and girls were 
idling about, thinking they were having a holiday 
— and that meant for the boys smoking short 
pipes, and for the girls smart dress and hats with 
flowers and feathers. 

He spoke to several of the lads, and invited 
them to come with him and gather evergreens ; 
“ For,” he said, “ I am having a tea-party to-night, 
and I hope a number of you will come. I want to 
make the room pretty, just like Christmas.” 

“ Will ’ee hang up a mistletoe, sir ? ” a boy said, 
giving a girl standing near him a nudge. 

“I don’t think there is any mistletoe to be 
had,” Mr. Robertson said. “ What is your 
name ? ” 


64 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

“ George Bradley, sir.” 

“Well, come along; you look big enough to 
carry a basket of evergreens on your shoulder.” 

George shuffled his feet and said — 

“ I’m engaged, sir. I have promised to take this 
young lady into the theatre. There is a day per- 
formance at twelve o’clock.” 

“ You had better change your mind. But I 
must leave it to you whether the performance in 
the theatre is worth your money.” 

“ It isn’t,” another boy said. “ It’s rot ; and it 
don’t last a quarter of an hour.” 

Several boys had gathered round Mr. Kobert- 
son now ; and Kate Slade said with a giggle to 
Minnie Bradley — 

“ He’s going to preach ; let’s be off.” 

No. Mr. Robertson never began his acquaint- 
ance with any people — boys or girls, men or 
women — with preaching. That might come after- 
wards. 

Something about him commanded respect in 
the idle, noisy crowd; and the result was that 
before one o’clock he had braved the displeasure 
of the Rectory gardener and carried off, with the 
help of four boys (of whom Teddy Oliver was 
one), a quantity of laurel and holly, and arrived 
with it at the schoolhouse just as a carriage rolled 
past. 


BOXING-DAY 


65 


“That’s Mr. Maxwell’s carriage,” one of the 
boys said. “ Shouldn’t wonder if it isn’t sent for 
Fan Wheeler. Won’t she be set up if it is ? She 
won’t care to come to no entertainment if she can 
go to Crawley Park. So there’s a slap in the face 
for you, Neddy Oliver, and for your sister too.” 

Yes ; the carriage did go round into the 
market-place, and stopped at Miss Brocklehurst’s 
door. 

The footman gave a loud rat-tat with the 
seldom- used knocker, and the door was opened 
by Miss Brocklehurst. 

“ Miss Maxwell has sent the carriage for your 
little girl, ma’am, and I’m to say she’ll be sent 
home in the evening.” 

Miss Brocklehurst drew herself up ; and Fan, 
standing on the lowest step of the narrow stairs 
behind her aunt, heard the answer given — 

“ My niece is otherwise engaged, which you can 
say with my respects to Miss Maxwell.” 

With that the door was shut with a sharp 
click, and there was a low cry from poor little 
Fan — 

“ Oh, aunt ! oh, aunt ! how can you be .so un- 
kind?” 


CHAPTER YII 

A LONG WALK 

“ You needn’t cry like a baby, Fan, and I wonder 
you should think of giving up Mrs. Oliver, who 
is coming for you at five o’clock to go to the 
entertainment.” 

“I shan’t go. I can’t go, aunt. I am too 
miserable.” 

“ Stufi and nonsense ! You’ll think better of 
it when the time comes.” 

Fan ran upstairs to cry in secret. 

“ They’ll never, never send for me again ! ” she 
moaned. “ And sending that short rude message 
— Oh, what shall I do ? what shall I do ? What 
will Miss Florence think, and Miss Maxwell ? I 
have a good mind to run off by myself. I know 
the way. It can’t be right of aunt to refuse Miss 
Florence, and she is still so weak and ill. I know 
she is crying. Yes, I shall go ! I don’t care 
what aunt says, and if she punishes me when I 
come back I shall not mind. I shall show Miss 
Florence I love her, and would risk anything and 

do anything for her sake.” 

66 


A LONG WALK 


67 


Fan did not stop to consider. She put on her 
warm cloth jacket and her hat, and then opened 
the door of her room softly to listen. There was 
no sound except the song of the canary, which 
came, softened by distance, from the closed door 
of the parlour. Miss Brocklehurst was in the 
kitchen. Fan knew that she would be preparing 
the dinner, and would probably never give her 
a thought. 

“ If she had only said she was sorry for me,” 
Fan thought ; but she could never be sorry for 
me, whatever happened.” 

Fan stood, scarcely breathing with excitement 
and fear of being discovered, with one foot on 
the top stair and the other waiting to follow 
it. That inner voice we all hear at times made 
Fan pause. 

“ Am I right to go ? It will bring a great 
deal of trouble. Aunt will be so angry, and 
perhaps ” — and here was the sting — “ perhaps 
Miss Florence may not want me as much as 
I want her, and Miss Maxwell may not be 
pleased.” 

Poor little Fan ! It is impossible not to pity 
her as she stood with one hand grasping the 
banister, and nervously holding her jacket 
tightly with the other. It was a great disap- 
pointment, and yet we know it would have been 


68 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


far better if she had tried to take it patiently, and 
not cherished resentment against her aunt. 

The clock, which stood on the next landing, 
by Miss Brocklehurst’s bedroom, struck twelve. 
The sound seemed to go through her. If she 
was to go at all, no time must be lost, for dinner 
would be ready before one o’clock, her aunt 
would call her to come down, and it would be 
too late to get away from the house. So she 
crept downstairs, reached the front door, opened 
it cautiously, and closed it, and was out in the 
market-place. 

The people who were about in the town were 
mostly strangers who had come in from the 
neighbouring villages to see the shows, and, in 
some instances, to visit their relations. 

Fan ran across the market-place with a beating 
heart, and turned down a narrow lane which led 
to a field, and through which she knew she could 
get to the highroad leading to Crawley Court. 

The air was damp and raw, for the Christmas- 
tide had been free of snow and frost, and the 
field-path was muddy and slippery. Fan slipped 
several times and nearly fell. Her boots were a 
mass of mud, and when she reached the stile 
which led into the road in her haste to climb it, 
she fell over into a big puddle which was on the 
other side, and which she had not noticed till 


A LONG WALK 69 

she felt her feet wet and her jacket streaming 
with water. 

“ Hallo, there ! ” a man called to her. “ You’ve 
had a pretty tumble, and a cold bath into the 
bargain. Where are you off to ? ” 

“ I am going to Crawley Court,” Fan answered 
with as much dignity as she could assume in her 
bedraggled condition. 

A loud laugh was the man’s reply to this infor- 
mation, with the words — 

“You don’t look in a trim to go to a grand 
place like Squire Maxwell’s. It’s a chance if they 
let you in. I suppose you are the sister of one of 
the servants, eh ? ” 

Fan vouchsafed no reply to this, but ran on. 
She was indeed in a sorry plight, but it would 
be worse to go back to her aunt than to go 
forward to Crawley. 

She came in sight of the gates at last, and they 
were open. 

The people at the lodge were entertaining some 
friends on the holiday, and she passed unnoticed. 
Before her was the long avenue of trees, where 
the wind was moaning in the leafless branches. 

The large, imposing-looking house faced the 
avenue, and in Fan’s eyes looked like a palace. 
She began to wish she had not come, for she 
felt she could never summon courage to go up 


70 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

that long flight of steps which led to the 
portico. 

“ There must be a way to the back ; if I could 
only find it.” 

Before she had gone many yards farther she 
saw a path leading off from the drive, and she 
turned into it. There was a quantity of bronze 
bracken on either side of the path, and a deer 
with branching antlers started up from it. Fan 
was filled with terror; but the deer only threw 
back its stately head and went off at a swinging 
pace, followed by some of his companions. 

The path took several turns, till at last the 
stables came in sight with a tower, from which 
a bell began to ring in sonorous tones for the 
servants’ dinner. 

Fan passed in, and, to her great relief, met 
the groom who had been with messages very 
often to her aunt’s house, and knew her at once. 

“ Why, I declare it’s little Fanny Wheeler ! 
My ! what a state you are in ! The carriage was 
sent for you, but the message was you were 
engaged.” 

The groom laughed, but Fan burst into tears. 

“ Oh, will you show me where to find Miss 
Florence ? I have come all the way, and — and 
I am so tired ! ” 

“I should just think you are. Come along, 


A LONG WALK 


71 

and we’ll find Mrs. Bayne. The servants’ hall 
dinner is ready. You are just in time. Here, 
Mrs. Bayne,” the groom said, as he pushed open 
a door at the end of a long passage, here’s a 
visitor ! Miss Brocklehurst’s niece come to see 
Miss Florence.” 

“Why, what a state you are in, to be sure, 
child ! What made you tramp out all this way ? 
There ! don’t cry ; come into my room and I’ll 
take off your wet jacket and — what boots ! I 
don’t like them on my carpet. Here,” to one of 
the maid-servants, “ fetch a pair of Miss Florence’s 
old slippers and take off' these dirty boots.” 

The kitchen-maid was not too well pleased to do 
Mrs. Bayne’s bidding, and made several grimaces 
as she unlaced the muddy boots. 

At this moment Watkins came flying in. 

“She won’t take her dinner, Mrs. Bayne, she says. 
Why, what are you doing here. Fan Wheeler?” 
Watkins exclaimed, suddenly breaking off in her 
information about Florence’s daintiness. 

“ The poor child has come all this way to see Miss 
Florence. Does your aunt know you are come ? ” 

“No,” Fan said. 

“ Then I think,” Mrs. Bayne said, with refresh- 
ing frankness, “you are a very naughty girl to 
have run off without leave.” 

“ Well, now she is come, perhaps Miss Florence 


72 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

will be satisfied, and get into a better temper. 
She was put out when the carriage came back 
without her ; and what a rude message from the 
old aunt! She ought to have considered it an 
honour to have a carriage-and-pair sent for her 
niece.” 

Watkins’ words had the effect of drying Fan’s 
tears, and she said to Mrs. Bayne — 

“ If you please, ma’am, I should like to see Miss 
Florence, and then I ought to go home.” 

“ I must find out what Miss Maxwell says about 
it,” Watkins exclaimed ; “ and you’ll have to wait 
till after our dinner. We are not going to be put 
to inconvenience through you.” 

“ Don’t speak so cross to the child,” Mrs. Bayne 
said. “ There is no doubt Miss Florence has been 
pining for her ; and though she should have asked 
her aunt’s leave, and not run off in this harum- 
scarum fashion, I believe she means well.” 

Mrs. Bayne insisted on Fan eating some dinner, 
and kept her next to her at the upper end of the 
servants’ long table, and put her food on her 
plate. 

Fan dare scarcely raise her eyes, for she felt 
the servants were all looking at her, and some- 
what resenting her position, next so important a 
person as Mrs. Bayne. 

When the dinner was over, that kind, motherly 


A LONG WALK 


73 


woman led Fan by the band to her room, washed 
her hands and face, and smoothed her hair. 
Then she said — 

“I will take you to Miss Maxwell first, and 
hear what she says.” 

Miss Maxwell exclaimed when she saw Fan — 

“My dear, I thought you could not come to- 
day.” 

“ Oh, ma’am, I could not help coming ; so as 
aunt sent the carriage away, I walked here.” 

“ Poor little girl ! Leave her with me, Baynes, 
and I will take her presently to Miss Florence.” 

Fan felt Miss Maxwell spoke gravely, and did 
not say she was glad she had come. 

“ I think, Fan,” she said gently, “ it would have 
been better if you had waited for another day. 
Miss Brocklehurst is sure to be vexed with you for 
running off alone and without her knowledge, and 
I am very sorry that you have done so.” 

“Aunt is always so unkind to me about Miss 
Florence; and sometimes I can scarcely bear to 
hear what she says about my love for her. And, 
oh ! it is real love. Miss Maxwell. I would do 
anything in the world for her.” 

“You have a very loving heart. Fan — that I 
have always seen, and I know you have been very 
fond of my little sister ; but it was not your duty 
to rush off here, causing your aunt great anxiety, 


74 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

and probably making her determined that you shall 
never come here again. Fan, did you ask God to 
show you the right way ? There are some words 
which I always find a comfort to me when I am 
perplexed as to what I ought to do — * Teach me 
to do the thing that pleaseth Thee, for Thou art 
my God.’ ” 

Fan’s eyes filled with tears. 

“ No,” she said, “ I never thought of that. Oh, 
ma’am, I am very sorry ; but you will let me see 
Miss Florence.” 

‘"Yes; and then I shall order the pony-cart, 
and you shall be driven back to Fountains before 
it is dark. I do not suppose that anything we 
have earnestly desired, and gone through much 
trouble to obtain ever quite fulfils the hopes we 
had set upon it.” 

Fan found Florence very fretful, and full of 
grumbling that she had not come sooner. 

“ My aunt wouldn’t let me come. Miss Florence.” 

“ As if you need have cared for her. You should 
have come in spite of her.” 

“So I did; and all because I loved you so 
much. I walked here.” 

“ Walked ! Did you ? You are a dear little 
thing, after all. Now sit down and read me 
something. What are you looking at ? ” 

“ What a beautiful room!” Fan said, “ and such 


A LONG WALK 75 

lovely things in it ; the pictures, and — I never 
saw anything like it before.” 

“ Dear me 1 ” Florence said. “ I don’t care 
about it. I want to be well and ride again and 
run about, and not lie here with nobody to amuse 
me. Now you are come, you are not very amus- 
ing. However, you must stay, now you are here, 
and you shall dress that doll. You have not 
looked at it yet. I don’t care for dolls, of course, 
but Winifred wants me to dress it for a child in 
the village who is ill. Open that box, and you 
will find a lot of silk and lace, and let us see how 
smart we can make Miss Dolly.” 

More than an hour passed pleasantly enough. 
Fan’s clever fingers cut out the frock and made a 
pretty hood, trimming it with lace to match the 
frock, which delighted Florence. 

Miss Maxwell came with her tea, and could not 
•help being pleased to see her little sister smiling 
and happy, and she really felt sorry when Watkins 
came to say — 

“ The cart is come round. Miss Maxwell, and 
Fan Wheeler is to come to Mrs. Bayne to get her 
things, at once” with emphasis. 

“ Winifred ! Winifred ! ” Florence cried. “ Fan 
is to stay — she is not to go.” 

“ No, Florence ; Fan must go home. Think 
how anxious Miss Brocklehurst will be. Bid her 


7 6 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

good-bye ; and perhaps we may very soon see her 
again.” 

“ Call father ! He won’t have Fan taken away 
when I want her.” 

“Father is not come home yet; he has been 
away all day. Now, Fan ! ” 

There was nothing left for Fan but to obey, 
and for Florence’s sake she tried not to cry; 
while Florence burst into a fit of tears, more 
angry than sorrowful. 

So the two children parted, and Fan found 
herself spinning along the road to Fountains as 
fast as the legs of the pony could carry the little 
cart away. As she drew near to Fountains her 
heart failed her. 

“ What, oh ! what would her aunt say ? And 
how should she bear her anger 1 ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A STRANGE MEETING 

The groom wlio had been ordered to drive Fan 
into Fountains was not at all pleased to have to 
do so on Bank Holiday. He had been going to 
join the party at the Lodge, and he thought it a 
hardship to have to put the pony in the cart and 
drive Fan home. As she had walked out, she 
ought to have walked back. He therefore did not 
say a word till he drew up before Miss Brockle- 
hurst’s door, when he said — 

“YouTl catch it, I expect, from the old lady, 
and won’t get plum-pudding for your supper.” 

It was now quite dark, and a chill, fine rain was 
falling. Fan got out of the cart, and slipping on 
the pavement as she did so, had her second fall 
that day. 

The groom did nut stay to inquire whether she 
was hurt. He was in too great a hurry to get 
back, and the cart was soon out of sight. 

Fan gave a gentle tap at the door. The knocker 
was not often used, and was very stiff. In the day- 
time the door was not locked, and the handle 

77 


y8 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

easily turned. But Fan turned the handle again 
and again to make sure, and then tried the 
knocker again, louder this time; but no answer 
came. 

The market-place was very quiet, for every one 
was either at the entertainment or in Wright’s 
Meadow, from whence came the distant sound of 
the drum beating at one of the shows, and the 
low hum of the crowd gathered there. 

Fan waited and listened, and once more with a 
desperate effort made the knocker resound on the 
door with one great thud; then, after another pause, 
the truth dawned on her that she was locked out. 

At first she thought she would go to the enter- 
tainment, but she shrank from the idea of appear- 
ing there wet and draggled, for the drizzle had 
changed into a heavy, persistent rain, and she 
was getting very wet. Then she thought of the 
Olivers ; but it was a long way to their home, and 
besides, she knew they would all be at the enter- 
tainment. Her heart began to fail her, and she 
felt utterly miserable. As she stood there crouch- 
ing against the door, to try and and protect her- 
self from the rain, a man came up to her. 

A blurred gas-lamp gave a dim light, and by it 
she saw the face of the same man who had seen 
her fall in the morning. 

“ What a joke this is ! ” he said. “ Here you are 




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A STRANGE MEETING 79 

again! Can you tell me if a Miss Brockleliurst 
lives here ? ” 

“Yes,” Fan said; “she is my aunt.” 

The man gave a loud laugh, and said — 

“Here’s a go! You are my little daughter, 
then. I am Bob Wheeler. I thought to myself, 
when I saw you, you were like some one I knew ; 
and though I can scarce make out your face by 
this bad light, I know now you are like your 
poor mother, my girl ; and you can’t be hke any 
one better. But what are we standing here in the 
rain for? Why can’t we go in? I rather dread 
seeing the old lady. She never took to me, nor 
I to her. All the same, she has looked after you, 
and I am obliged to her. Here ! give me a kiss, 
child. I’ve never seen you since you were a mite 
that could scarce toddle.” 

As he spoke he gave poor Fan a sounding kiss, 
and then began to pound away at the knocker till 
the deserted market-place echoed the sound. 

“ Why doesn’t she let us in ? ” he asked. 

“ Aunt is gone out, and the door is locked.” 

“Well, what’s to be done? You can’t stand 
here getting wet to the skin. Come along with 
me, and we’ll find a shelter somewhere.” 

“ I — I don’t know what to do,” poor Fan said. 
“Aunt wouldn’t like me to go anywhere with a 
stranger.” 


8o 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


“A stranger! I never heard the like! and I 
your own father! You ain’t going to put on airs 
to me, I hope. Your mother wouldn’t approve of 
that, I can tell you. Bless her heart ! she stuck 
to me through thick and thin. Come ! I am not 
going to leave you here in the rain. I’ll take you 
to the King’s Arms, and we’ll have a Christmas 
supper together. The landlady knew me years 
ago, and she’ll be pleased to see me again.” 

Fan was sorely perplexed, and, as was only 
natural, this father, so suddenly appearing, with 
his loud voice and rough ways, did not attract 
her, or make her feel glad to see him. But there 
seemed no help for it, so she allowed him to take 
her hand and lead her across the market-place to 
the King’s Arms, which was the inn in a street 
in the opposite direction to Miss Brocklehurst’s 
house. 

The wet evening had sent some wayfarers into 
the King’s Arms, and Fan clung to her father’s 
arm as loud voices, and the smell of tobacco, came 
from the parlour, divided from the bar by a red 
curtain. 

“ I would rather not go in there, please.” 

“ What ! not to have, a plum-pudding and bit of 
roast-meat ? ” 

“ No, thank you. I know aunt would be angry,” 
and Fan, tired and miserable, burst into tears. 


A STRANGE MEETING 


8l 


" Dear me ! what a chicken-heart IVe got in my 
daughter! Here, Mrs. Maggs,” he said, address- 
ing the landlady, “ do you remember me ? ” 

“I declare it’s Captain Wheeler! Why, we 
heard you was lost, sir, and that three years ago. 
Pray step in, and — my dear,” addressing Fan, 
“ what is the matter ? ” 

Fan now sobbed so bitterly she could not 
speak. 

“ Come with me into my own sitting-room, my 
dear, and let me dry your wet things. I’ll make 
you a cup of tea while father goes into the parlour 
and gets his supper.” 

Fan was only too thankful to accept the offer, 
and Mrs. Maggs said — 

“You go along, Captain Wheeler, and leave the 
child to me. She is worn out.” 

“ All right ! ” was the answer ; “ and I daresay 
you’ll hear how I found the poor thing locked 
out in the rain. Not the trick of an over-kind 
aunt — eh, Mrs. Maggs ? ” 

“ It was my fault — all my fault ! ” Fan sobbed. 
“ My aunt’s ” 

“ Oh, I daresay ! I can’t understand any aunt 
in the world doing such a thing; but I’ll leave 
you to tell Mrs. Maggs all about it.” 

Mrs. Maggs was a kind, motherly woman. She 
stirred the fire, took off Fan’s wet jacket, and for 

F 


82 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

the second time that day it was necessary to dry 
her clothes. 

“Now,” my dear,” Mrs. Maggs said, when she 
put on the kettle and prepared for tea, “ tell me 
what’s wrong. It isn’t like Miss Brocklehurst to 
lock you out. She never likes people to talk, 
and they’ll be ready enough to have their say 
about this if it gets known in the town. And 
father finding you ; it is extraordinary, quite like 
a story in a book.” 

Fan did her best to tell Mrs. Maggs what had 
happened. She did not spare herself, acknow- 
ledged that she ought not to have gone to Crawley 
Court, and that when she heard her aunt’s mes- 
sage, and saw the carriage drive away, she was so 
unhappy, she felt she must go, or Miss Florence 
would think she did not care about her. 

“ I was to have gone to the entertainment with 
Mrs. Oliver, and I felt as if I could not bear to 
go while Miss Florence wanted me, and I ran all 
the way, and when I came to a gate I fell down 
into a puddle on the other side, and a man passing 
called out to me, the same man who brought me 
here. Oh, Mrs. Maggs ! is he really and truly my 
father ? ” 

“No doubt of it, my dear. I remember his 
coming and keeping company with your mamma 
eighteen years ago. Miss Brocklehurst took it ta 


A STRANGE MEETING 83 

heart that her sister should marry a sailor; and 
we heard no more of your mamma till she came 
back with you a baby, saying the Captain had 
gone a long voyage, and she asked Miss Brockle- 
hurst to take her in. She didn’t live long, and 
died when you were a little tiny tot, and there 
you’ve been ever since. But you heard all this 
before.” 

No,” Fan said, “ no, aunt never told me any- 
thing except that my mother was dead, and my 
father gone to sea, and was never heard of.” 

“ Poor little thing ! ” Mrs. Maggs said. “ I’ve 
always felt sorry for you; but Miss Brocklehurst 
holds herself high, and has little enough to do 
with any one.” 

Fan found the good fire and the hot tea and 
toast very comforting ; and, utterly exhausted, she 
curled herself up in Mrs. Maggs’ large easy-chair 
and fell sound asleep. 

Then Mrs. Maggs left her and went to look after 
her guests in the parlour. Captain Wheeler was 
entertaining them with what he called a “long 
yarn,” and he was looked upon quite as the hero 
of the evening. 

He was a careless, easy-going man, who had 
very little thought either for the past or the future. 
He was recounting to an admiring audience the 
story of his shipwrecks, his wonderful escapes, and. 


84 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

finally, of his having picked up a pretty little 
fortune in South African mines. 

He rose from his seat when Mrs. Maggs came in, 
and said he had never had a better supper, and 
threw down a five-shilling piece in payment. 

Mrs. Maggs thanked him, but said he would get 
change at the bar, and that she wished to speak to 
him in the parlour. 

Captain Wheeler did as she told him, and rattling 
some coins in his pocket, followed Mrs. Maggs to 
the room where poor little Fan was still wrapt in 
profound slumber. 

“What is to be done with her. Captain?” she 
asked. “ I am scarce on speaking terms with Miss 
Brocklehurst, or I would offer to take the poor 
child home myself. I know Miss Brocklehurst 
well enough to feel sure that Fan’s running off 
without leave would make her very angry. It’s 
a chance if she lets her in at all to-night. She is 
a hard woman, upright and just — but hard.” 

“I know that well enough, mum. Didn’t my 
poor wile find it out to her cost ? She’s the picture 
of her mother,” he said, looking down on the 
sleeping child, a fatherly concern and affection 
rising in his heart. 

“I can lodge here to-night, I take it,” he said, 
“ and you can find a corner for the child. And in 
the morning we’ll just go and make our peace with 


A STRANGE MEETING 


85 

the old lady. She was twenty years older than 
my wife, and you may say, brought her up. I 
know her and her ways.” 

The voice roused Fan, and she started up, look- 
ing round her in a bewildered fashion. 

“ Do you feel better now, my dear ? ” Mrs. Maggs 
said. 

“ Oh yes, thank you ; and I want to go home.” 

“Not to-night, my dear; you’ll stay here with 
your old father, and then to-morrow we’ll see 
about getting aunt into a better temper.” 

“ Oh no ! I want to go home, Mrs. Maggs. 
Please — please take me. I want to tell aunt I’m 
sorry I ran off to Crawley, and I think she’ll 
forgive me.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” Captain Wheeler said. “ You just 
stay here with this kind lady, and make your mind 
easy about aunt. I’ll manage her.” 

Mrs. Maggs felt sorry for Fan as she went on 
beseeching her to take her home. She could not 
stay there — she must go home. 

Captain Wheeler began a low whistle, and turn- 
ing away, he said to Mrs. Maggs — 

“ I’ll go and smoke a pipe, ma’am, and leave you 
to manage the child. It’s queer to find her so set 
against me — but it’s not to be wondered at.” 

Fan was putting on her jacket and hat, and 
said — 


86 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

“ I can go by myself to aunt's house ; the enter- 
tainment is over by this time, and she must be at 
home. Thank you for being so kind to me,” and 
then, with a sudden impulse, she threw her arms 
round Mrs. Maggs’ neck and kissed her. 

“There! I have not the heart to let you go 
alone. Wait a bit, and I’ll go and get my cloak 
and bonnet, and well see what aunt says. But, 
my dear, I wish you would be a bit kinder to your 
father. He was hurt, I saw. I know you feel 
strange with him ; but he is your father, and he 
looked at you as you lay asleep with longing eyes, 
and said you were your mother’s picture. I’ll jus* 
tell him we are going, and then you can bid him 
good-night.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 

Mrs. Maggs knew she had a difficult task to per- 
form, and she held Fan’s hand tightl}’’ in hers 
as they crossed the market-place together. A 
great many people were now going home, for 
the entertainment was over, and some from the 
country who had been in Wright’s Meadow were 
hastening to get to the station for the last train> 
which had been an excursion one, stopping at 
the small wayside platforms, which fast trains of 
ordinary service passed at express speed. 

Tired children were crying, and tired mothers 
were shaking them and petting them by turns, 
while the boys and girls, who had been in loud 
and noisy spirits in the morning, were now in- 
clined to be quarrelsome, and ended the pleasures 
of Boxing-Day with recriminations, and, in some 
instances, with tears. 

Those who had gone to the entertainment had 
gone more quickly to their respective homes, and 
the young clergyman was well pleased with the 
success of his efforts. Rational amusement and 

87 


8 8 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

teaching people how to enjoy it and amuse them- 
selves was his aim, and he had been pleased with 
the thanks he had received from the schoolmaster, 
who had at first looked coldly on his attempt. 
Miss Brocklehurst's tall figure in her black 
gown and her stem face under her large bonnet 
had attracted his notice; she had never allowed 
her face to relax into a smile, and sometimes she 
looked round when the door opened as if expect- 
ing some one to come in. 

It happened that Mr. Robertson, on his way 
to the Rectory, passed Miss Brocklehurst’s door 
just when Mrs. Maggs and Fan were standing 
there. He saw by the gas-lamp that the child’s 
face was very pale and that tears were rolling 
down it. 

“ Is your little girl ill ? ” he asked. 

“WeU, sir, she is not my little girl, but I am 
taking her home, for she has got into a bit of 
a scrape with her aunt. I am Mrs. Maggs of 
the King’s Arms, and I have run out with the 
poor child, but I can’t make any one hear, though 
I have knocked nearly a dozen times at least.” 

“ Try again,” Mr. Robertson said ; “ it is a cold, 
wet night to be standing out here in the rain,” 
and then Mr. Robertson raised the unwilling 
knocker with his strong hand, and gave a long 
rat-tat-too which no one could fail to hear. 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 


89 

It had the effect of bringing a light to the 
bedroom window above the door, and then the 
blind was pulled aside and a face peered out. 

“ There’s Miss Brocklehurst, sir ; perhaps if you 
spoke to her she might open the door.” 

Mr. Kohertson raised his voice with the same 
strength that he had raised the knocker and 
said — 

“Is that Miss Brocklehurst? If so, will she 
come down and open the door ? ” 

“ Who is it ? ” 

“ Your little niece, who is very anxious to 
come in.” 

The window was opened and Miss Brocklehurst 
said — 

“I shall not let her in to-night; she has left 
my house and will not return.” 

The window shut down with a loud snap and 
then all was quiet. 

Fan broke into convulsive sobs. “Oh, aunt, 
aunt ! let me come in ! I am so sorry and I am 
so tired.” 

“ Well, well. Fan, don’t take on like that. You 
shall come back with me and welcome. Won’t 
that be the best plan, sir?” Mrs. Maggs said, ad- 
dressing Mr. Robertson. 

“ I should think so,” he replied ; “ but I do not 
know the facts of the case, and so I am not able 


90 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

to advise you. At any rate, it is impossible for 
you to stand here without getting cold, and I 
must hasten to the Rectory or I may find the 
door shut against me. Now, good-night! I will 
come and see what I can do for you in the 
morning. I feel very sorry for you, my poor 
ohild, but we will talk about it to-morrow.” 

Then Mr. Robertson’s tall figure vanished in 
the darkness, his quick footsteps ringing on the 
pavement of the silent streets. 

Fan, still sobbing bitterly, was led by Mrs. 
Maggs back to the King’s Arms, and could not 
be comforted. Mrs. Maggs hurried her upstairs, 
and put her to bed in a little room adjoining 
her own, and then left her with an injunction 
to go to sleep, and forget all about it till the 
morning. 

Such advice is very easy to give and very 
difficult to follow. Poor Fan tossed and turned 
on her pillow, rehearsing the events of the day. 
She did not excuse herself for running off to 
Crawley Court, and she felt Miss Maxwell did 
not approve of it. But how she was punished 1 
Then the meeting with her father, and she 
thought — 

“ I ought to be glad to see him,” she moaned ; 
“I ought to be pleased to have him, but I can 
not. It is very wicked of me to feel as if he 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 


91 


were not really my father, and yet I can’t help 
it — I can’t help it; and if aunt really never lets 
me go home again, what shall I do? I never 
knew aunt change her mind; she can’t forgive 
those who have done wrong; she never forgave 
my father for marrying my mother — so Mrs. 
Maggs says.” 

Then Fan’s mind went back to Mr. Kobertson 
and the Christmas service, and what he had said 
about peace and goodwill and forgiveness. Soon 
more peaceful thoughts filled her mind, and Fan 
fell asleep. 

Miss Brocklehurst was engaged in putting her 
parlour into order the next morning — not that 
it was ever in disorder — when a tall figure passed 
the window and there was a knock at the door. 
She opened to see Mr. Kobertson standing there. 

“Good morning, Miss Brocklehurst,” he said 
in his pleasant cheery voice. “ May I come in for 
a few minutes ? ” 

Miss Brocklehurst, who had a pair of what she 
called dusting-gloves on her hands and a large 
Holland apron over her tall figure, said — 

“ Will you walk in ? ” Then pausing at the door 
of the parlour, she said, “ This way, if you please, 
sir. I have a fire in my back sitting-room.” 

Mr. Robertson followed Miss Brocklehurst, and 
brave as he was and not at all given to be afraid 


92 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


of speaking out when he thought it was right 
he did feel a little awestruck when Fan’s aunt 
turned and faced him with her stern face and 
waited for him to unfold his mission. She felt 
now that Mr. Robertson had come to speak to 
her about her truant niece, for she had by the 
dim gaslight of the previous night made out his 
tall figure as he walked away from the unopened 
door. 

“ I found your little niece standing outside your 
house last night, and I confess I was surprised 
that you did not let her in.” 

Miss Brocklehurst set her lips in a still tighter 
curve and did not say a word. 

“ I hope you will receive her this morning, and 
I am sure you will forgive her for having done 
wrong, for she seemed in great distress, poor child.” 

At last Miss Brocklehurst spoke. 

“Fan Wheeler has made her own bed,” she 
said grimly, “and she must lie in it. She has 
left my house against my orders and she cannot 
return to it.” 

“Oh, I hope you will reconsider this,” Mr. 
Robertson said. “ You know we are taught to for- 
give as we would be forgiven.” 

“I have nothing at all to say to it, sir, and 
you’ll excuse me for saying that you know nothing 
at all of the circumstances, and so cannot judge 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 93 

me. Fan lias lived with me ever since she was 
a baby, and fine notions were put in her head by 
a young lady who was brought into my house 
after an accident and could not be moved, and 
took a fancy to Fan — the child has not been the 
same since. Up to that time I had no trouble 
with her; since then she has been discontented 
and pining after Miss Florence, and caring for 
nothing else.” 

And now a thundering knock, equal in vehe- 
mence to that by which Mr. Robertson had tried 
to rouse Miss Brocklehurst the night before, was 
heard. Miss Brocklehurst started and said — 

“ Excuse me, sir,” and then went hurriedly down 
the passage, and opening the door, saw Fan stand- 
ing there with her father. 

“Well, Anne,” Mr. Wheeler said, “I’ve brought 
the child home. Give me a kiss. You look 
younger than ever. You thought I was dead 
and buried, but I’m alive and hearty, and glad 
enough to see my little girl here, the picture 
of her poor mother.” 

Miss Brocklehurst adroitly avoided Mr. Wheeler’s 
kiss, but she was too much astonished to speak. 

Fan, pale and trembling, stood waiting to hear 
her sentence, and faltered out — 

“ I hope you’ll forgive me, aunt. I am so sorry ; 
I am, indeed.” 


94 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

Miss Brocklehurst did not speak. She stood 
like a statue — motionless. 

‘‘Well/’ Mr. Wheeler said, “you might ask me 
to sit down, Anne. It’s a long time since I dark- 
ened your door, so you might be civil. What 
does the parson say ? Is he a friend of yours ? ” 

“ No,” Mr. Robertson said. “ I can scarcely say 
I am a friend of Miss Brocklehurst’s, but I cannot 
help feeling an interest in this poor child, whom 
I saw standing at the door in the rain last night. 
Cannot we all go into the room and talk this over, 
or shall I leave you to settle matters between 
yourselves ? I know I have no right to dictate 
or to interfere, but I do hope you will kindly 
receive your niece, Miss Brocklehurst, for I am 
sure she is sorry she has disobeyed you.” 

“ Look here, sir,” Mr. Wheeler said ; “ I offended 
Anne Brocklehurst by marrying her sister, and I 
know she is as hard as nails, and will never come 
round to me; but I shall soon be aboard ship 
again. I couldn’t stand the shore for long, and 
I don’t want to have my poor girl without a 
home. I was wrecked off the coast of South 
America, and then got to Ceylon by working from 
one port to another. I hit upon some mines 
when I was ashore there, and made a pretty little 
pile of money. I can leave Anne Brocklehurst 
enough to pay back all she has paid for my child. 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 


95 


and more, so there need be no trouble on that 
score. I don’t want to quarrel, I’m sure. I like 
peace, and Fan’s poor mother used to say I had 
a good temper. I am spinning a long yarn ; you’ll 
excuse me, I hope, sir.” 

“Sui'ely,” Mr. Robertson said, turning to Miss 
Brockleburst, “you’ll take your little niece back. 
Her father seems to be very kindly disposed to 
you and I advise you to let bygones be bygones 
and begin afresh.” 

Ill all this discussion, and during Mr. Wheeler’s 
long stoiy, Fan had stood with a white face, 
trembling in every limb, uncertain what was to 
become of her. 

At last Miss Brocklehurst spoke, and every 
one was surprised at what she said. In that long 
silence she had been making up her mind what 
she should do. Mr. Wheeler’s sudden appearance 
had sent her thoughts back over the past, and 
she seemed to see once more the young sister 
who had come back to her with her child in her 
arms when her husband had gone on his long 
voyage. Could she turn away that child from 
her door ? Could she be unforgiving ? 

“Go upstairs. Fan, and take off your hat and 
jacket, and stay there till I come and speak to 
you. And, Mr. Wheeler, if you’ll step into the 
parlour, I will give you my mind.” 


g6 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

What that mind was no one ever exactly knew, 
but Mr. Wheeler came away from the interview 
very much subdued, and all his jaunty, careless 
manner gone. 

Mr. Eobertson walked away with him, and he 
said — 

“Anne Brocklehurst is a bit stiff and hard; 
but she is a just woman, sir. I am going to 
take her advice and try and sober down a bit 
before I make a home for my little girl. I was 
too rough with her, I see, and so I was with 
her mother. I see my sister-in-law, having kept 
the child all these years, deserves to be consulted ; 
but I hope she won’t shut her doors upon her 
again, as she did last night.” 

“ I think you may trust her not to do so, and 
trust Fan not to run away again without leave. 
What do you propose doing, may I ask ? ” 

“Well, I shall go on board ship again, and 
after another voyage I shall be able to make a 
home for my girl, and I hope she will not turn 
away from me. Now I am going to the King’s 
Arms to pay my dues to Mrs. Maggs, and then 
perhaps I shall look in on Anne Brocklehurst 
before I leave the town. My heart is not made 
of stone, whatever you may think, and I can’t 
say but what I felt it very hard when my child 
seemed to shrink away from me. But I’ll mend 


THE DOOR IS SHUT 


97 


all this, you may depend on it. I’ve taken a 
glass too much sometimes, I know well. I’ll 
turn over a new leaf for the sake of my child 
and of her who is gone.” 

“I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Robertson said. 
“ You won’t mind my asking you to pray God to 
help you to keep your good resolution ; for none 
of us can persevere in the right way without His 
help. Shake hands, and God bless you ! ” 

Mr. Wheeler gave the young clergyman’s hand 
a hearty grasp with his rough, horny one, and 
said — 

“ Thank you kindly, sir. There’s many a man 
would be the better for a few kind words and a 
blessing, instead of a curse and a scolding. I 
shan’t forget you, sir. Good-bye ! ” 


a 


CHAPTER X 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL 

Fan trembled as sbe heard her aunt’s steps on the 
stairs, and stood awaiting her coming with dread. 

Miss Brocklehurst came in and shut the door, 
then sat down on the only chair in the room, and 
said — 

“ Frances ” — she always called her Frances 
when she was going to scold her — “Frances, 
I have taken you back into my house, and 
after your conduct you could hardly expect me 
to do so.” 

“I am very sorry, aunt; please, please forgive 
me.” 

“I may forgive you, but 1 shall not be able 
to trust you till you have given some proof that 
your sorrow is not mere empty words. I must 
have a proof of it before I believe you. Now 
listen. I did not think your father lit to have 
the care of you, and as he is going to sea 
again, it was out of the question, though he did 
say some wild things about taking you with him. 
I loved your poor mother, and I wish to be 

98 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL 99 

just to her child, but I must have your promise 
never to run oiF again to Crawley Court.” 

“Not unless you give me leave, aunt.” 

“I shall never give you leave. You have got 
absurd notions put into your head, through being 
mixed up with folks of another rank in life from 
yours, and I can have no more of it.” 

Fan’s tears began to fall again, and she could 
not repress her sobs. 

“Oh, aunt] I do love Miss Florence, and she 
loves me.” 

“ She wiU forget you fast enough ; don’t flatter 
yourself she will pine after you. It was just the 
whim of a spoiled, indulged child, and it was a 
sort of fancy that won’t last. Now, be a good 
girl, and let us have no more trouble about Miss 
Florence or Miss anybody else. Do your duty in 
the state of life into which it has pleased God to 
call you, and make yourself useful and try to earn 
your own living. You are old enough now. I 
am going to pay Miss Cantiler to have you 
taught dressmaking, and by-and-bye you will be 
able to take in work. Now, wipe your tears, 
and come downstairs and lay the cloth for dinner 
as usual.” 

Fan made one more appeal. 

“ Do you mean I am never to see Miss Florence 
again, aunt ? not if she came to see me even ? ” 


Lofa 


100 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


“Oh, well, if she comes here, I don’t say but 
what you may see her ; but I’ll have no intimacy. 
I have made up my mind, and there’s an end of it. 
It is bad enough for me to have the whole town 
talking about my shutting you out in the rain. 
Mrs. Maggs has a tongue a yard long, and she is 
making a pretty story out of it, I dare say.” 

“Mrs. Maggs was very kind to me,” poor Fan 
said. “You don’t know, aunt, how miserable I 
was, and I felt so strange with poor father. I wish 
I had been different to him.” 

“ It’s no use crying like that ; you’U make your- 
self ill, and that won’t mend matters.” 

Fan tried in vain to stop her tears, and began 
to shudder, while her teeth chattered, and yet her 
cheeks were burning hot. 

She was hungry for a loving word and a kiss of 
real forgiveness. Miss Brocklehurst was, as Mr. 
Wheeler had said, perfectly just, but she had 
never learned to let her justice have mercy in it. 

Fan did her best to go about her accustomed 
work in the house, but her legs ached and her 
head throbbed, and she had great difficulty in 
swallowing her dinner, for her throat was very 
sore. 

She sat cowering over the fire in the back- 
parlour, while Miss Brocklehurst went out, saying, 
as she left the house — 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL 


lOI 


“I am going to see Mrs. Maggs at the King’s 
Arms, and pay for your bed and board there last 
night.” 

“I don’t think Mrs. Maggs wants to be paid, 
aunt.” 

“I am not going to he beholden to her, or to 
any one else,” was the reply. “You can put on 
the kettle and make yourself a cup of tea, and 
I'll make you some gruel at night, and you’ll be 
quite well in the morning.” 

But Miss Brocklehurst was really uneasy about 
Fan. She had always a dread of being the 
subject of her neighbours’ gossip. As Mrs. Maggs 
said, “She held herself very high;” and as she 
went on her way to the King’s Arms, she did 
think it would be very awkward if the report got 
about that by locking her niece out in the raw 
cold on Boxing-Night she had caught a chill, and 
was ill in consequence. 

Fan did feel very ill, and as she sat over the 
hre, she was very lonely and miserable. 

Presently there was a tap at the outside door, 
and she rose to open it. 

“Oh, Fan!” Hattie Oliver said, “I could not 
help coming to see if you were here. People are 
saying you were turned out of the house by 
your aunt, and no one knows what has become 
of you.” 


102 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


“Oh, Hattie!” Fan said, “do come in, and I 
will tell you all about it. I feel so bad ; I think, 
perhaps, I am going to die.” 

“Nonsense, Fan! don’t talk like that. Here! 
let me make the fire burn up better. Mother says 
a bright fire is comforting when you are in trouble. 
Where is the kettle? Let me put it on and 
make you some tea, and while the water is boiling 
tell me all about it.” 

Poor Fan threw her arms round Hattie’s neck, 
and said — 

“I am never, never to go to Crawley Court 
again ; never to see Miss Florence again.” 

“Well,” Hattie said, “ I always thought it would 
come to that some day.” 

“ Why should you think so ? ” Fan asked, half 
offended. 

“I don’t quite know, but do not let us talk 
about it ; let me tell you about the entertainment. 
I wish you had been there ; it was such fun, and 
Mr. Robertson was so merry, and just seemed to 
be enjoying himself as much as we did. He 
seemed to take a fancy to Teddy, and was ever 
so kind to him. Think of that boy George Brad- 
ley coming to sit with the small boys to hiss and 
caterwaul when Miss Hunter sang, and to make 
grimaces. You should have seen Mr. Robertson’s 
face when he came to the place where the boys 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL IO3 

were. He saw at once that George was at the 
bottom of the disturbance, and laid his hand on 
his shoulder, saying, ‘Here is your penny you 
paid for admittance; if you do not like to stay, 
take it and leave the room.’ George did look 
ashamed. I was near him, so I heard and saw 
what passed — Mr. Robertson holding the penny 
in his hand, and George looking so foolish. ‘1 
don’t want the penny,’ he said. ‘Then sit down 
and behave yourself.’ All the time Mr. Robertson 
was speaking he kept his eyes on George, and he 
dare not look at him ; he just turned his head 
away, and had not a word to say. The little boys 
were frightened, and got into a corner together. 
Then Mr. Robertson put his hand on George’s arm 
and said, ‘ Come with me to the platform, and sit 
there, and when the entertainment is over you 
and I will have a talk.’ So he marched him 
to the top of the room, and for once in his 
life George Bradley looked ashamed. Now, tell 
me about yesterday, and what happened to you. 
Fan.” 

“ I don’t think I could tell you everything, but 
I fell twice — once getting over the gate, and once 
getting out of the carriage I was sent home in. 
And my father saw me, and I did not know who 
he was the first time, not till he came up and 
asked if aunt lived here. Then he thumped at 


104 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

the door, but no one came, and then he told me 
who he was. I was not nice to him, and he is my 
father, and now I shall never see him any more ; 
but my head aches so dreadfully, and I feel as if 
some one was pouring cold water down my 
back.” 

“You’ve got a bad cold, and you must go to 
bed,” Hattie said. “ I’ll help you, if you will drink 
a cup of tea first.” 

“ Thank you, Hattie ! ” 

Then poor Fan put her arms round Hattie’s 
neck, and sobbed and cried, and said she hoped 
she still cared for her. 

“ Of course I do,” Hattie said. “ I am not one 
to change, and we have been friends such a long 
time, haven’t we ? ” 

“ Yes. Oh, Hattie ! I am so ill. My head is 
burning hot, and it feels as if hammers were being 
struck upon my forehead.” 

Hattie hastened to make the tea and cut some 
thin bread for toast ; but poor Fan could scarcely 
swallow the tea, and Hattie was frightened. 

“I think I shall run home and call mother,” 
she said. “I am sure you ought to see Dr. 
Nicholson.” 

Fan now sat crouched up on the slippery sofa 
covered with horse-hair, and leaned her poor aching 
head against the hard cushion. Presently her eyes 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL IO5 

closed, and slie sank into a heavy doze, breathing 
heavily. 

Hattie sat looking at her with fear at her heart, 
longing for her mother, but yet afraid to leave Fan 
and fetch her. 

Miss Brocklehurst was out a long time ; Hattie 
thought she was never coming back. 

The clock ticked, and cinders now and again 
dropped in the grate, but there was no other 
sound. 

At last Miss Brocklehurst’s latch-key was heard 
in the door, and Hattie run out to meet her. 

“ Oh, Miss Brocklehurst ! ” she said, “ shall I run 
for Dr. Nicholson ? Fan looks so ill.” 

Miss Brocklehurst did not say a word, but, pass- 
ing Hattie, went along the passage to the back- 
parlour. 

“ She must go to bed, that is all. It is a bad 
cold, and if she has something hot she will be well 
in the morning. There is no need to get a doctor. 
I suppose you have had a bad cold yourself ; it is 
not uncommon.” 

Nevertheless, Miss Brocklehurst felt uneasy, 
and bid Hattie stay with Fan while she pre- 
pared her room, and got a kettle heated with 
hot water. 

In spite of Miss Brocklehurst’s bustling about 
Fan did not wake; she moaned a little in her 


I06 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

heavy slumber, and Hattie felt her hand was 
burning with fever. 

“ I wish mother was here,” she thought. Oh, 
I wish mother could see Fan. I am sure she 
is very ill, and Miss Brocklehurst ought to have 
Dr. Nicholson.” 

It was with some difficulty that Fan was roused 
to go up to bed. She could scarcely walk, and 
said her head ached worse than ever. 

Hattie did all she could to help her to undress ; 
and then, when once in bed, poor Fan began to 
shiver again. When Miss Brocklehurst brought 
the gruel, she could not take more than two 
spoonfuls. Hattie made one more appeal. 

“Please, Miss Brocklehurst, had not I better 
get the doctor ? ” 

“The morning will be soon enough. You had 
better run home now, or your mother will be in a 
fidget about you — so, good evening ! ” 

Hattie was very unwilling to leave Fan, and, 
bending down over her, kissed her, saying — 

“ I will come again to-morrow, and I hope you 
will be better, dear. Good-night ! ” 

“ Mother,” Hattie said when she reached home, 
“I am sure Fan is very ill, and her aunt won’t 
have Dr. Nicholson. I wish you would go and 
persuade her. I am so unhappy about Fan. Do 
go, mother.” 


THE KESCTLT OF A CHILL IO7 

“No, Hattie; I would go in a minute if I 
thought it would be of any use ; but you might as 
well try to move the church-tower as to make 
Miss Brocklehurst change her mind. It is a pity 
when good people like her are so obstinate— and 
Miss Brocklehurst is a good woman, but very fond 
of her own way.” 

The next morning Miss Maxwell came to ask 
Miss Brocklehurst to allow Fan to come to Crawley 
Court. 

“I came hoping to take her back with me,” 
Miss Maxwell said. 

Miss Brocklehurst, like many other people, could 
not resist Miss Maxwell’s gentle manner, and she 
said — 

“I am much obliged to you for coming for 
the child ; but she is ill m bed with a bad 
cold.” 

“ I am so sorry,” Miss Maxwell said. “ My little 
sister is counting the minutes almost till she 
comes. I am afraid Fan caught cold on that long 
wet walk to Crawley. She was very wet when she 
arrived; but her clothes were dried, and we sent 
her back in the pony-cart.” 

Miss Brocklehurst was silent. She knew that 
standing out in the damp night-air, trying to 
get into the house was the real cause of Fan’s 
illness. 


I08 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

“ May I see her ? ” Miss Maxwell asked. 

“She is in a room at the top of the house, 
Miss Maxwell. I could not trouble you to go up 
there.” 

“But I should like to go,” Miss Maxwell said. 
“ Fan was so kind to my little sister when she was 
ill here, that I often feel we ought to do something 
for her, as an acknowledgment of her unselfish 
attentions. Please let me see her.” 

Miss Brocklehurst hesitated. 

“ I have sent for the doctor,” she said, “ and I 
hope Fan will be better to-morrow, if you could 
call again.” 

Miss Maxwell did not like to press Miss Brockle- 
hurst too much, for she saw she was not at all 
willing that she should go upstairs. 

“ The child’s father turned up yesterday,” Miss 
Brocklehurst said. “He found her out, and she 
went with him to the King’s Arms. He is not 
at all the sort of man I should like Fan to live 
with, and so I took her back again, but I was 
very much displeased with her, for she ran off 
to Crawley Court without leave, and, of course, 
I did not think of letting her in here at mid- 
night ; it was against my principles.” 

Miss Maxwell looked very grave. 

“ I am afraid Fan got cold by standing about 
in the damp and rain.” 


THE RESULT OF A CHILL IO9 

“Her father was with her. He took her to 
the King’s Arms to sleep, and brought her here 
yesterday morning. He is gone to sea again, and 
the longer he is at sea the better.” 

“ Well,” Miss Maxwell said, “ I will come again 
to-morrow, and I hope to find Fan much better. 
Give her Florence’s love, please.” 


CHAPTER XI 


FANNY WRIGHT 

“ IsN*T she come ? ” Florence said in a fretful voice. 
“ You promised to bring her. It’s a shame.” 

“Fan was in bed very ill with a bad cold. It 
was impossible for her to come.” 

“ Did you see her ? ” 

“ No ; but I am going again to-morrow, and I 
hope to find her better. I must take her some 
jelly and flowers, and it would be nice if you 
could send her something, to show you do not 
forget her.” 

“Of course I don’t forget her, but I want her 
to come here. It is so dull and stupid, and Fan 
said she would finish dressing my doll. No one 
would like to lie here all day, with Watkins so 
cross, and every one telling me I ought to be 
a contented child, with everything I want given 
me. But I want a companion like Fan Wheeler, 
who would do all I wished her to do.” 

“She spoiled you, Florence, as every one else, 
I am afraid, has spoiled you. But you are to 
have a companion very soon. Father has asked 

no 


FANNY WRIGHT 


I I I 


a lady lie knows to allow a little girl to come 
here for a long visit. She will be here to-morrow.” 

“ Who is she ? ” 

“ Her name is Fanny Wright.” 

“Another Fanny! I am sure I shan’t like her. 
I shall call her Fanny Wrong.” 

“As soon as you get better you are to have 
another governess, and when you begin your 
lessons again, time will not pass so slowly.” 

“I want to ride again,” Florence said, “and 
run about, and not lie here.” 

“ You must be patient, dear Florence.” 

“I am sick of being told to be patient,” and 
Florence turned her head away with tears and 
sobs. 

Miss Maxwell was very sorry for her sister, and 
reproached herself for having done so little to 
teach her self-restraint and unselfishness. 

Florence, who had been a bright and happy 
child when she had everything she liked and 
every whim indulged, was now fretful and dis- 
contented, simply because she had never learned 
to give up her own will, and her life had really 
no interest beyond herself. 

The next day Miss Maxwell was to go to the 
station to meet the little companion whom, it was 
hoped, would rouse Florence out of her com- 
plaining and depression, and bring brightness 


I 12 


FANKY AHJ) HER FRIKNDS 


into Crawley Court, where Florence’s accident, 
and her prolonged illness, had cast a cloud for 
some time. 

On the way to the station Miss Maxwell stopped 
at Miss Brocklehurst’s door, and went in to inquire 
for Fan. In the parlour, so familiar to her during 
her sister’s illness, she found Dr. Nicholson and 
Miss Brocklehurst. Miss Brocklehurst was stand- 
ing with folded arms, and apparently unmoved 
by the doctor’s words — “The child has acute 
inflammation of the lungs, and must be moved 
into a room with a fire, or taken into the hospital. 
It is quite impossible that she can remain in this 
cold attic in the roof. Which shall it be. Miss 
Brocklehurst ? ” 

“Is Fan so ill?” Miss Maxwell asked anxiously. 
“ Can I do anything ? ” 

“ Fan Wheeler is sharply ill — I do not say 
dangerously ill, but her illness may take a turn 
for the worse imless the proper means are taken, 
I cannot stop now, for I am summoned to the 
Rectory, where the old Rector is ill; but I will 
return in the evening, and I expect to find the 
child in a warm room, with a kettle on the fire, 
with the steam allowed to come out of the spout. 
Good morning 1 ” 

And Dr. Nicholson went away, evidently in no 
very serene temper. 


FANNY WRIGHT 


II3 

Miss Brocklehurst was one of those people who 
never, as she termed it, “wasted words.” Miss 
Maxwell could not make out whether she was 
angry or sad. Perhaps it was a little of both, 
for she had been very much offended with Dr. 
Nicholson’s plain speaking, and no one but herself 
knew how deep was her regret, and soreness, of 
heart, for having kept Fan out in the cold of 
that winter night. 

Miss Maxwell did not know what to say to Miss 
Brocklehurst. She was afraid of taking a liberty 
in her house, and remembered how lately all her 
arrangements had been disturbed by Florence’s 
accident. 

“Will you take Fan these flowers?” she said, 
“ and there is a little basket in the hall with some 
jelly and other things which may be useful. I 
shall be so glad to bring more to-morrow, and 
then perhaps you will let me see Fan.” 

“You can see her now, if you please,” Miss 
Brocklehurst said; then she suddenly changed 
her mind. 

“ Better wait till to-morrow, for I shall have her 
moved down into my room, and I must go now 
and light the fire. I think it is rubbish to make 
the fuss Dr. Nicholson did, and it seems as if I 
was never to have peace in my house again.’' 

“ I am very sorry,” Miss Maxwell said ; “ so very 

H 


I 14 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

sorry, and I wish I could do anything to help. 
Shall I send a nurse ? ” 

“ A nurse ! No. I am quite capable of tending 
a child with a bad cold, I hope.” 

Miss Maxwell drove off to the station to meet 
the new Fanny, feehng very much concerned 
about the other. Yet what could she do with a 
woman like poor Miss Brocklehurst ? 

The footman went to the platform to meet 
Fanny Wright. She was a smartly dressed girl, 
with a quantity of fair hair hanging over her 
shoulders. She evidently did not know what 
shyness meant; she had the manners of twenty 
rather than of fourteen, and Miss Maxwell felt a 
little uneasy as to whether she would prove what 
Florence called her, Fanny Wrong, instead of 
Fanny Wright. 

She seemed to have no regrets at leaving her 
grandmother, who had brought her up, and in 
reply to Miss Maxwell’s question as to whether 
she had had a nice journey, she said — 

“ Yes, very. I am very glad to come, and as I 
have no sisters, and Florence has no sisters, we 
ought to get on, oughtn’t we ? Oh, I forgot — ^you 
are Florence’s sister. I beg your pardon.” 

“I am many years older than Florence, so I 
may scarcely count as a companion-sister, which 
I hope you may be to her. My little sister has 


FANNY WRIGHT 


II5 

had, as you may have heard, an accident from 
which she has not recovered, and she will perhaps 
want you to be patient with her.” 

“ Oh, I understand what you mean ! My 
grannie was very cross and fidgety, and Aunt 
Bessie had a great deal to put up with ; so had I 
sometimes.” 

To the surprise of every one, Florence, instead of 
disliking the newcomer, very soon made friends 
with her, and became really much better. 

A tonic given to people in a weak state of 
health often brings back the wish and the power 
to shake off invalid habits, and this was the case 
with Florence Maxwell under the influence of 
Fanny Wright. 

She had what Watkins called a will of her own, 
and instead of indulging Florence in every whim, 
she calmly told her — 

“We must take it in turn. I must do what I 
like at one time, and you shall do what you like 
at another.” 

At first Florence resented this, but in the end 
she began to feel happier, and to find that to give 
up her own way was better than always to be 
struggling after it. 

In the meantime the other Fan was lying in her 
aunt’s room ill. 

Miss Maxwell did not fail to call every day, 


I I 6 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

driving into the town on purpose to inquire for 
her, but Miss Brocklehurst did not allow her to 
see her. 

To her surprise, Miss Maxwell met Mr. Robert- 
son coming out of the house one day as she 
entered it, and she stopped him, saying — 

“ May I ask you how little Fan Wheeler is ? Is 
she really better ? ” 

“ The danger is over now. Dr. Nicholson thinks, 
but the child is very weak. I am called back here 
unexpectedly, as my old cousin at the Rectory is 
very ill, and I have come to do his duty for him. 
The poor child is very gentle and patient, and 
grateful for all you send her.” 

“I really must see her to-day,” Miss Maxwell 
said. 

“ Of course, I know she is longing to see you. 
Her aunt is kind in her way, but,” he added, 
laughing, “it is not exactly the right way with 
sick people.” 

Miss Maxwell found Miss Brocklehurst in the 
back-parlour heating some beef-tea in a sauce-pan. 

“ May I go upstairs to-day, please. Miss Brockle- 
hurst ? ” 

Miss Brocklehurst nodded and said — 

“ I’U show you the way. How is Miss Florence ? ” 

“ She is getting on nicely now, thank you. I 
hope Fan is better.” 


FANNY WEIGHT 


II7 


“She is going off like her mother, who was a 
poor delicate thing all her life, and her husband 
finished her.” 

Miss Brocklehurst tramped upstairs before Miss 
Maxwell, and, opening the door, said — 

“ Here’s a young lady come to see you.” 

Fan started up and then sank back on her 
pillow again. 

“ I thought it was Miss Florence,” she said. 

“Florence is not quite able to come so far yet, 
but she has had several drives in the pony-carriage ; 
it is a. low and easy one which my father has 
bought for her. I hope you will have a drive 
in it some warm spring day.” 

Fan shook her head. 

“ I don’t feel as if I should ever get well. Miss ; 
but I try not to grumble, though I am afraid I am 
rather cross to aunt sometimes and to Hattie 
Oliver. But Mr. Kobertson has helped me to be 
patient. I mean to try to be patient. Will you 
give Miss Florence my love ? Does she like the 
young lady who has come to live at the Court ? I 
think if the doll is not dressed I might finish it in 
time.” 

Miss Maxwell did not like to tell her that the 
doll had been discarded, and that the new Fanny 
had told Florence it was silly to play with 
dolls. 


Il8 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

“ I will tell Florence what you say, and as soon 
as she is able she shall come and see you.” 

“ Hattie Oliver is very kind to me. She comes 
every afternoon after school and tells me all that 
happens, and repeats the poetry she has learned, 
and on Sunday the hymns and Scripture. Hattie 
says Mr. Robertson is liked by every one, and 
even George Bradley behaves better since he 
came. And Hattie thinks that one day he will 
tell the truth about the cracker which frightened 
the pony and made it run away with Miss Florence. 
For she says she knows George did throw the 
cracker, and tried to make every one think that 
Teddy did it.” 

It was as Fan said — every one in Fountains felt 
the good influence of the young clergyman. He 
had won the hearts of old and young, and when he 
took the Scripture Lesson on Sunday at the school, 
he held the attention of all the children. 

He was walking back to the Rectory one dark 
night in January when he heard quick footsteps 
behind him, and presently a boy’s voice said — 

“If you please, sir, I want to tell you some- 
thing.” 

“ I can’t see who you are. What do you want 
to say ? ” 

“I’m George Bradley. I want to know if you 
would mind going one day to Crawley Court and 


FANNY WEIGHT 


I 19 

let the gentleman there know, that I was the boy 
who let off the cracker under the pony’s nose and 
made it run away and throw the young lady off*. 
I’ve been keeping it back ever so long, and tried 
to put the blame on another boy. But ever since 
you talked to me about being true and good in 
all our dealings, I have felt as if I must tell some 
one. You see, sir. I’ve had a spite at Teddy 
Oliver, because he was always praised, and every 
one called him a good boy and me a bad one.” 

George spoke very fast, as if the sooner he got 
out what he had to say the better, and Mr. 
Robertson could hardly understand him. 

“Come into the Rectory — into the study,” he^ 
said, opening the Rectory gate, “ and let me hear 
the whole story.” 

When George had told it from beginning to 
end Mr. Robertson said — 

“You should go straight to the Olivers’ house 
and tell the boy you have wronged him.” 

George twisted one foot over the other and 
said — 

“ I’d rather tell any one sooner.” 

“ I dare say ; but if Teddy Oliver is the boy I 
take him for, you need not be afraid of what he 
will say. The sooner you have relieved yourself of 
the burden on your conscience the better.” 

“ I never felt it was a burden, sir, till you came 


120 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


here. I did not care a bit about having told a 
lie before. I hope, sir, you will trust me to speak 
the truth and I'll try hard." 

“ Try in the right way, my boy, and with God’s 
help this may be the beginning of better things. 
Let us shake hands, and remember I shall trust 
you till I have cause to distrust you again." 

When George left the Kectory, he wandered up 
and down the lane trying to make up his mind 
to go to the Olivers’ house. Suddenly a merry 
whistle and the sound of footsteps made him stop. 
It was Teddy Oliver’s whistle. He called out to 
him — 

“ Hullo ! is that you, Teddy ? I want to speak 
to you.” 

“It's nothing I want to hear,” Teddy replied, 
“ so shut up.” 

“ But, Teddy — wait — stop.” 

“Not I; I am late going home as it is,” and 
Teddy disappeared in the darkness. 

George stamped his foot with vexation and 
said — 

“ I shan't tell him at all. He may think what 
he likes of me.” And with this, George, crest- 
fallen, and with all his good resolutions fading 
away, walked suUenly towards home. 


CHAPTER XII 


"FOUND wanting” 

The days lengthened, and the winter was over 
and gone when Fan for the first time was allowed 
to leave the house, and breathe the soft balmy air 
of a sweet early April day. 

It had been a long confinement to the room, 
and when she came down to the parlour, she had 
felt very weak and tearful, and still more so when 
her aunt brought her jacket and hat, and tying 
a large comforter over her mouth, said she was 
to come out for a quarter of an hour. 

“Oh, I am sure I can’t walk, aunt. My legs 
tremble so.” 

“ You must try,” was Miss Brocklehurst’s reply. 
“ It is no use giving way, so you must come, and 
you’ll feel all the better for it.” 

Fan tried her best, and there was something 
refreshing in the air, but it was very dull to walk 
along the pavement of the market-place and to 
feel as if everything was an effort. 

Presently carriage wheels were heard, and an 
open landau came swiftly past. In it were 

I2I 


122 


FAKNY AND HER FRIENDS 


Florence Maxwell and her governess and Fanny 
Wright. The Maxwells had been in the south of 
France for the winter, and during all those weeks 
Fan had only had two or three boxes of flowers 
from Miss Maxwell, and not a word from Florence. 
She now looked back and gave Fan a httle nod 
as to an ordinary acquaintance, and Fanny Wright 
said — 

“Who is that funny little old-fashioned thing 
who is staring at you ? Is she a friend of yours ? ” 

“ Oh, that is the girl whose old aunt took me 
in after my accident. That’s the aunt walking 
with her.” 

“ They are a funny couple,” was the answer, 
and then, as the carriage rolled on, Florence for- 
got all about Fan and chattered to Miss Randall, 
the governess, and Fanny Wright as if there were 
no such person as Fan Wheeler in the world. 

Poor Fan ! all through the winter she had been 
looking forward to Florence’s return, and thinking 
of that happy time when she should be sent for 
to spend the day at Crawley Court. She could 
hardly restrain her tears, and said — 

“ Please, aunt, let me go in now ; I am so tired.” 

“ You must keep out for ten minutes, and then 
you shall go in.” 

So another turn was taken along the pavement 
skirting the market-place, and by the King’s 


FOUND WANTING 


123 




Arms they met Mr. Kobertson. He had been 
presented to the living of Fountains when the 
old Rector resigned on account of ill-health, and 
his nephew lived in the Rectory with him, and was 
like a son in his dutiful attention to him. 

“I am glad to see you able to come out this 
lovely day,” he said; “but you look very pale, 
my poor child. She should not attempt too much 
at first, Miss Brocklehurst.” 

“The doctor said,” Miss Brocklehurst rephed, 
drawing herself up in her stiffest manner, “Fan 
was to keep out twenty minutes, and it is only 
a quarter of an hour by my watch.” 

“Well, I think she looks as if she had had 
enough. I am just going out to Crawley Court, 
as I heard the family have returned from the 
south of France.” 

“ Indeed, sir ! ” Miss Brocklehurst said, and made 
no further remarks on the subject, but made a 
curtsey and bid the clergyman good morning. 

Fan’s woe-struck little face touched Mr. Robert- 
son, and on his return after luncheon from Crawley 
Court he thought he would go in and see her 
He had been very kind to her throughout her 
illness, and felt sorry for her lonely life with her 
good, but very unapproachable aunt. 

“ You found the first attempt to go out a trial 
to-day. I have been telling Miss Maxwell about 


124 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

you, and she means to come and see you ver} 
soon, and hopes to take you for a drive.” 

“ Did you see Miss Florence, sir ? Did she send 
me a message ? 

“I had not much chance of speaking to her,” 
Mr. Robertson replied, “for she left the dining- 
room with her governess and another little girl 
before we did.” 

“I thought ” Fan stopped, and her words 

came with an effort. “I thought Miss Florence 
would be glad to see me again, but I am sure she 
does not care for me now. When she passed in the 
carriage to-day she hardly looked at me. I loved 
her so much, sir; and I have been thinking all those 
long weeks how nice it would be to see her again.” 

“I should judge Miss Florence to be a some- 
what spoiled young lady, and perhaps it may be 
just as well that you should not see so much of 
her. You have a very good friend here in Hattie 
Oliver. The Olivers are a very nice family, and 
their mother has brought them up well and care- 
fully. It would be a good plan, when you are 
stronger, if you went up to their pretty cottage for 
a day. I will speak to them about it, and I think 
1 know of a chair that you could have. The boys 
would be pleased to drag or push you in it. By 
the boys I mean Teddy Oliver and George Brad- 
ley. I am glad to say they are good friends at 


“found wanting” 125 

last. Those who tell what is untrue have to wait 
a long time before they are trusted, and Teddy 
Oliver could not believe in George Bradley, or 
forgive him for telling a lie about the letting off 
the crackers which frightened little Miss Florence 
Maxwell’s pony. It is a penalty — perhaps a just 
penalty — that has to be paid for shuffling and 
lying, that even when the sin is repented of, it is 
hard to trust those who have been dishonest in 
word and deed.” 

“ And you think George is really sorry, sir ? ” 

“ Yes, I do, and I am going to try and get him 
a place as gardener’s boy in the household of a 
friend of mine. Just now he is working at the 
Rectory under old Giles, who gives a fair account 
of him, though, like many other people, he did not 
think very well of him in the past.” 

Mr. Robertson’s proposition about the chair was 
hailed with delight by the Olivers, and Fan found 
to be dragged in a chair by Teddy, and having tea 
at Mrs. Oliver’s afterwards, a very different matter 
from walking slowly along the pavement with her 
aunt. 

Day by day strength came back to Fan, and 
then one bright spring morning the long- wished 
for invitation came from Miss Maxwell 

She had been ill with a bad cold, she said, or 
she should have sent for her sooner. 


126 


FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 


Poor Fan read Miss Maxwell’s kind note several 
times, and looked in vain for the hoped-for mes- 
sage from Florence. 

“ Never to say a word — never to say she wanted 
to see me,” she thought; and then, putting Miss 
Maxwell’s note into her aunt’s hand, she said — 

“Do you wish me to go to Crawley Court, 
aunt ? ” 

“ Of course I do, child ; the country air will do 
you good. What time are they sending for you ? ” 

“Eleven o’clock to-morrow. The pony-cart is 
coming into town with errands, I suppose, and I 
am to go back in it.” 

“ Humph ! ” Miss Brocklehurst said. “ You must 
wrap up well, and put my cloak over you. I 
don’t want to have you laid up again.” 

It was with strangely mixed feelings that Fan 
found herself once more in the housekeeper’s room 
at Crawley Court. 

“Well, I never, child ! How you are grown since 
^’le day you got here like a drowned rat! Miss 
Maxwell will be glad to see you, but ” 

Mrs. Bean did not finish the sentence, and 
bidding Fan take off her jacket and hat, she 
ushered her herself into the morning-room. 

Miss Maxwell was not there, and Florence and 
the other Fanny were seated at a table playing 
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FOUND 'WANTING. 


Pa^e 127 



FOUND WANTING 


127 


(( 


Poor Fan felt terribly sby, and Florence came 
towards her holding out her hand, and saying — 

“How do you do, Fan? I am sorry you have 
been ill. I am quite well again. We have a 
holiday to-day, so we can play a game with you 
presently, but I must finish this first with Fanny. 
This is Fan Wheeler, Fanny; you have heard me 
talk about her, haven’t you ? ” 

“Yes,” was the reply. “ Do come and finish the 
game, because I am getting the best of it.” 

“There’s a book, Fan, with photographs of the 
places we went to ; you can look at them while I 
play this game. You’ll see the donkeys we rode 
on, and the girl and boy who brought them 
round every morning. It was nice to get on any 
beast again; though, of course, I shall soon be 
allowed to ride my own pony.” 

Fan sat looking at the photographs with eyes 
dim with tears, and, in her distress, one dropped 
upon a page of the book. 

A miserable quarter of an hour passed, and then, 
to her great rehef, a servant came to say that 
Miss Maxwell would like to see her in her own 
sitting-room. 

Fan was surprised to see how pale and thin 
Miss Maxwell looked. She held out her hand 
to her and said — 

“ I should have sent for you before, but I have 


128 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

been very ill. And you too bave been ill since 
that day you came here and got so wet.” 

Fan bad been struggling with ber tears for 
some time, and now Miss Maxwell's sweet, kind 
words quite broke ber down. Sbe told tbe whole 
story of wbat bad passed since last sbe bad been 
at Crawley Court — of ber father, of ber aunt’s 
displeasure, of Mrs. Maggs’ kindness, and lastly 
of Mr. Robertson, and of much that sbe bad 
learned from him. 

“I know I must take all my trouble now to 
God,” sbe said, “ and try to bear it.” 

“ Is it a new trouble ? ” 

Fan hesitated. 

“Is it anything about which I can help you 
in?” 

“ No, Miss, no ; but ob ! I did love Miss Florence, 
and sbe is quite, quite changed ; and I should like 
to stay with you tiU it is time to go home.” 

Miss Maxwell understood at once ; for sbe 
knew that Florence bad a fickle nature, and that 
while sbe was ill and shut out from other com- 
panions, and Fan did everything to please ber, sbe 
thought sbe loved ber — but it was only self-love 
all tbe time. 

Miss Maxwell was very sorry for Fan, and did 
all sbe could to comfort ber. Sensitive and loving 
natures like hers bave often to bear trials of tbe 


“ FOUND WANTING ” 1 29 

same kind, when they give out a wealth of love 
and expect a full return. 

But the days came when Fan Wheeler could 
see that her affection for a child in a very dif- 
ferent rank of life from her own, was misplaced; 
especially one who had only been brought in con- 
tact with her by unusual circumstances, and who 
had not any depth in her character, but was like 
the butterflies in the Court garden, dancing about 
in the sunshine from flower to flower, and happy 
in perpetual change and variety. 

Miss Maxwell was a true friend to Fan, and 
encouraged her to put her heart into earning a 
living as a dressmaker, and in time becoming 
independent of her aunt. 

Miss Maxwell persuaded her father to apprentice 
Fan to a really good dressmaker in the nearest 
large town, and after three years she returned to 
Fountains fully equipped to set up a little business 
of her own. 

Hattie Oliver worked with her, and the friend- 
ship that had begun in their childhood was 
strengthened year by year. 

Teddy had been taken as a clerk in a large 
business concern, and was well spoken of and 
making his way. 

Miss Brocklehurst, who at first looked coldly on 
Fan’s enterprise in setting up for herself, gradually 

I 


130 FANNY AND HER FRIENDS 

grew ratlier proud of her, and was pleased to tell 
her friends that Fan was employed by several 
ladies, not only in the town, but also in the county 
—a distinction of which Miss Brocklehurst was 
fully aware. 

She suffered very much as age drew on ; and 
when Captain Wheeler returned after another long 
absence, having lost his arm by an accident, to 
the surprise of every one, and especially his own, 
he was received kindly by his sister-in-law, to 
whom he paid a liberal sum for his board. 

He was much shattered in health, and a very 
different man from the noisy, boastful sailor who 
had spun yarns of self-glorification in Mrs. Maggs' 
parlour seven years before. 

His pride in Fan was unbounded, and he would 
often say with a sigh — 

“ She was the picture of her mother, and genteel 
and hke a lady ; and he only hoped she would fall 
into good hands, not such rough-and-ready ones 
as his had been.” 

Fan, now known as “Miss Wheeler” in Fountains, 
came every Sunday to spend it with her father 
and aunt, and walked with them to church, and 
took them both home to dinner in her pretty 
room at the back of her shop in the market-place, 
where she carried on a really good business. 

Now and then the Crawley Court carriage 


“FOUND wanting” I31 

stopped before the shop, and Miss Florence would 
go in and give orders for a dress, and talk to Fan 
of all she did in London, of her presentation to the 
Queen, and the grand people and things she saw. 

But although Florence Maxwell was very pretty 
and graceful, there were lines of discontent round 
her mouth, and her voice had often a fretful, dis- 
satisfied tone in it. 

Companion after companion had followed Fanny 
Wright, and she was always pining for something, or 
some one she could not attain. Indulged in every 
whim from her infancy, many of her faults were 
due to this, and thus when her friendships were 
put to the test they were found wanting. 

Time tries most people in this life, and happy 
are they who can feel that they have stood the test, 
and are faithful and true to the end. 


THE END 






MOV 22 1900 





















